


Sweets For My Sweet

by Ttttrickster (iscatterthemintimeandspace)



Series: Sweet  Sabriel Serial Killer Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Bleeding, Blood, Bloodplay, Death, Gore, Injury, M/M, Mental Illness, Mentions of sex trafficking, Murder, Serial Killer! Gabriel, Serial Killer! Sam, Serial Killers, Sex Trafficking, Violence, mentions of abuse, possible triggers, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscatterthemintimeandspace/pseuds/Ttttrickster
Summary: Serial killers Sam Winchester and Gabriel Novak dole out their brand of poetic justice as the Karma Killers, disposing of those who have slipped through the law's fingers. After a botched kill tears them apart, leaving Gabriel in jail and Sam floundering on his own, the two killer lovebirds have to find a way to be together, or die trying.





	1. Chapter 1

Despite the fact that Gabriel hated sharing, he loved watching how men and women alike reacted to Sam Winchester. He sat at the bar, sipping whiskey not far from their target as Gabriel looked on from a booth across the room with his pineapple daiquiri. There were at least two people other than the target that had taken interest in Sam, and Gabriel kept an eye on them as he saw Sam initiate the first part of their plan. 

Sam smiled at her, taking a sip of his whiskey, flirting with his eyes. Their target came toward them, as if she was a fish hooked to a line. She sat down next to Sam, leaning into him as she did, ever so slightly brushing him with her breasts. He lit up immediately, spinning in his chair to give her his full attention. Gabriel couldn’t see Sam’s face, but from the flush that had appeared on her cheeks, he could tell Sam was working his charm on her. 

An hour and three rounds of drinks passed as Sam buttered their target up, using every trick in his arsenal. Gabriel knew them well and the woman didn’t stand a chance. Sam excused himself and walked towards the bathroom, Gabriel followed five minutes later.

Gabriel stepped up to a urinal and unzipped, two stalls down from where Sam was. 

“She biting?” Gabriel asked, not even turning to look at him. He was just another guy taking a whizz as far as anyone else was concerned. 

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Sam replied, zipping up and stepping away from the urinal to wash his hands. “Another 15 tops.” 

Sam dried his hands and left the restroom without another word, leaving Gabriel to savor the calm before the storm. He could already feel the beginnings of the adrenaline high that always came when they had a new playmate. It was worth the wait. 

After a couple of minutes, Gabriel washed his hands and rejoined the bar crowd, never taking his eyes off of Sam. The woman was leaning against him, making wild arm gestures towards the bathroom, but Sam was shaking his head as he paid their tab in cash and maneuvered her off the stool. 

Their target was definitely feeling the booze she had ingested as she stumbled towards the door, largely aided by Sam. Gabriel watched as Sam leaned in to kiss her, effectively quieting any objections she might have. Gabriel sat and sipped his drink, the alcohol tasting sharp and strange on his tongue as he felt the shadow inside him make it’s way to the forefront of his consciousness. 

He finished and paid his bill, again in cash, sauntering towards the door to grab his coat from the coat rack. He took his time crossing the parking lot of the bar, cutting across a grassy planter to the dilapidated motel next door. Gabriel rounded the corner, seeing the lights were on in the room they had rented for tonight, again in cash. 

Gabriel loosened the tie he was wearing, ran a hand through his hair, and strolled in. 

Sam was shirtless, the plaid button down he’d been wearing strewn on the floor. The woman on the other hand was down to her panties, her bra hanging over the chair. 

“Oops,” Gabriel grinned, with a suggestive wink. 

The woman made a drunken grab for the blankets to cover her nakedness. “Oops is right. This isn’t your room. Get out. This ain’t a peep show.” 

“You’re wrong about one thing, sweetheart,” Gabriel closed the door behind him. “This is my room,” he took a step forward, smiling as wide as he could. “And that’s my husband.” 

She turned to look at Sam, but he was too quick for her. He had a cloth pressed against her mouth before she could scream, his body pinning her to the bed. Gabriel watched as she went limp in Sam’s arms, the chloroform they’d soaked the rag in doing it’s work. 

Gabriel took a moment to get out of his monkey suit, shedding his jacket and tie into their suitcase. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his button down, and shrugged it off his shoulders, putting it in the suitcase as well. White stained too much, and for what they had planned, it was a liability. He was left wearing black slacks and the black tee-shirt, perfect for disguising any evidence of their activities. 

“You put on quite the show in there,” Gabriel turned to look at Sam. He had put his shirt back on, a black one matching Gabriel’s own. “It almost looked like you were enjoying it.” 

Sam snorted as he took the ropes and his knife out of the bag. “This was your idea, baby,” Sam replied, looking up and smiling at his partner. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

“You better,” Gabriel pouted at him, secretly suppressing a smirk. 

They made quick work of the limp woman on the bed, using the rope they had brought to tie her up, and secure her to the bed. Their tools had been carefully selected beforehand and now all they had to do was wait for her to wake up. 

She came to slowly, her eyes fluttering open as she struggled against her bonds. She looked up at Sam and Gabriel, eyes darting back and forth. 

“Please,” she begged when she’d regained use of her tongue. “Please don’t hurt me, I’m broke, I don’t have any money. Please just let me go, I won’t tell anyone.” 

Gabriel let her snivel for awhile. “Sweetheart, we all know none of that is true. You’re rolling in dough from selling underage children into sex work. Give yourself some credit. If you’re going to be bad, at least own it, Naomi.” 

Naomi dropped the act so quickly Gabriel got whiplash. “My boys will tear you apart. They’ll notice I’m missing soon.” 

Gabriel chuckled, picking up one of the knives. “That’s more like it,” he replied, watching as Sam selected a knife of his own, the large Bowie he typically favored. Gabriel paused as arousal shot through him at the sight of his husband with a knife. “Now, your boys aren’t going to do shit. Your boys, as your luck would have it, aren’t as loyal as you think they are. They might be despicable men, but they do have a sense of honor. My advice? Don’t skimp the help come payday, Ms. Angelo.” 

Naomi started struggling anew, her body arching up off the bed as she pulled at her bonds. “You'll pay for this, you’ll-” 

“The only one who is going to pay is you,” Gabriel assured her. “For all those kids whose lives you stole. Karma can be a bitch.” 

Recognition flickered in Naomi’s eyes as she took them both in. “You’re them, aren’t you? The ones on the news.” 

“Don’t believe everything you read in the papers,” Gabriel grinned. “Now, less talking, more dying.” 

Sam followed this remark by closing Naomi’s mouth with duct tape. “Why do you always insist on talking to them first? You sound like a bad movie villain.” 

Gabriel stuck out his tongue. “Go big or go home, Sammy,” Gabriel teased. “What’s the point in being wanted by the FBI if you can’t have a little fun?” Sam rolled his eyes, but Gabriel could see his smile. “You can start,” Gabriel swept his hand over Naomi. “After all, you did all the hard work.” 

“Gladly,” Sam replied, flipping his knife in his hand. Gabriel would have spent more time playing with her, but Sam was a more get to the point kind of guy. He was less about the pageantry that had become Gabriel’s modus operandi, and more about the justice behind the act. It was this that kept law enforcement from connecting that the Candy Man had become the Karma Killers. The last Gabriel had heard from his sources in the FBI was they believed the Candy Man was dead or locked up, which was fine by him. 

Sam took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he slipped into his shadow space. Gabriel secretly loved watching him like this, loved watching the change that came over him. He loved Sam regardless of what state he was in, but there was something thrilling about watching Sam’s becoming. 

Sam opened his eyes, taking the knife with purpose this time. Naomi’s eyes widened and she began to thrash again, but none of the noises or motions she was making deterred him from what he was about to do. 

He plunged the knife into her throat, spraying both Gabriel and himself as the knife hit home. Blood soaked them as it continued to pump in heavy spurts out of Naomi’s neck, her life ebbing away with every stream. Gabriel kept eye contact, watching until the last second when the light left her eyes. 

Naomi’s body went limp, blood still gushing from the wound that Sam had cut in her neck, staining the dingy white sheet a bright crimson. Gabriel turned to Sam, and slipped his hand into Sam’s, still sticky with Naomi’s blood. Sam hauled him in closer, pressing his lips savagely Gabriel’s, his tongue slipping inside his mouth. 

Gabriel loved this. Whereas killing made Gabriel hungry, it made Sam horny and Gabriel was more than happy to indulge him. He tasted like whiskey and blood, and the fact that he knew the blood wasn’t Sam’s made it even better. Gabriel kissed him back with equal force, reaching up to tug at Sam’s hair. 

Sam growled, nipping sharply at Gabriel’s lip. “Shirt off, pants down now.” 

Gabriel felt a shiver of arousal travel down his spine, and he scrambled to get undress. He slipped out of his shoes first, kicking them to the side. He pulled his soaked shirt over his head, smearing blood up his neck and his face. His black leather belt came next, followed by the buttons on his pants. He fumbled to get his pants open,shoving them partway down, just enough for his cock to spring free. 

In the meantime, Sam had stripped off his t-shirt, and unbuttoned his jeans. Gabriel stepped in to help him, bending to lick along his ribs as he pulled his pants and boxers down his hips. Sam’s arousal sprung free, hard against his bloody belly. 

Sam pulled him up, kissing him so hard the Gabriel felt his lip split against Sam’s teeth, groaning in pain as well as in pleasure. A moment later, he pushed Gabriel down on the bed, next to where Naomi’s still-warm body was cooling. Sam shoved it to the ground, where it landed with a dull thud, unable to go very far because of the ropes still tethering her to the bed. 

He came down a second later, straddling Gabriel’s hips, grinding their cocks together roughly. Gabriel let out a hiss, bucking up unconsciously at the friction, wanting more. As if Sam could read his mind, he wrapped their cocks in his large hand, tugging upwards, as a moan tore from Gabriel’s throat. 

If they had been at home, or someplace familiar to them, they would have savored the moment, taking each other apart piece by piece, relishing in their post-kill bliss, but this motel was on foreign soil, so they had to make due with the limited time they had before they needed to move on. 

Sam stroked them both hard and fast, with a twist at the end that he knew drove Gabriel crazy. Naomi’s blood had seeped into the blanket, and marked Gabriel’s back and the hand Sam was using to hold himself up. 

Gabriel looked up into Sam’s face, and shivered. Some idea was forming there, behind the darkness in his eyes, twinkling like a star on a clear night. Sam sat back on Gabriel’s thighs, bringing his blood covered hand to his mouth. Gabriel’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Sam lick at the blood that stained his fingers, using the same motions that Gabriel was so familiar with to fellate him. 

The action went straight to Gabriel’s cock, twitching against his belly, his eyes trained on Sam. Nothing else mattered in that moment, nothing but him and Sam and this. The dark thing inside him was practically purring, throbbing in his head as it watched the monster he’d released inside of Sam do the same. 

Sam dipped his hand back into the blood, tracing a crimson finger across Gabriel’s lips. Gabriel dared to lick it with the tip of his tongue, groaning as the old penny taste of it exploded over his tongue. Sam’s dripped the blood over his body, his chest, his hip bones, his cock itself. 

He gently climbed off him, licking at the droplets he’d painted Gabriel with, his tongue feeling like a white hot iron when it connected with his skin. Sam trailed down his belly, leaving a glisten trail of saliva in his wake. He nipped at Gabriel’s hip bones, smearing the blood above his lip as he cleaned Gabriel’s skin. Sam saved his cock for last, ghosting over it in a maddening fashion before swiping his tongue up the shaft in a way that had Gabriel seeing stars. 

Gabriel whined when he pulled away, glaring at him as he tried to follow him with his body. 

“Sammy,” he groaned, trying to pull him back down. “Sammy please.” 

“Don’t worry baby,” Sam responded, “I’ll take care of you. Just wanted to be able to watch you come apart.” Sam bent to kiss him again, quickly as he climbed back onto his lap. In no time at all, Sam had them both in his hand again, stroking with single-minded determination. 

Gabriel knew it wouldn’t be long now, not between Sam’s hand and the show he had just put on. He tried to hold on, but by the looks of it, and the way his strokes faltered, Sam was in the same boat that he was. 

One more twist of Sam’s wrist and Gabriel was done for. He came with a cry over Sam’s knuckles, his whole body releasing the tension that had been building inside of him. Sam came a moment later, with a grunt, adding to the mess on Gabriel’s belly. He let go of them, kissing Gabriel tenderly, lingering to lick the last of the blood from his lips. He did the same with his belly, cleaning every last trace from his skin, before he stood up and tucked himself back into his pants. Gabriel was a little slower, pausing to take a deep breath before he redressed. 

Sam untied the body, looking up at Gabriel. “Where do you want her?” 

Despite the fact that his aim was justice, Gabriel still appreciated that Sam let him express himself in every act. He opened his mouth to answer and there was a knock on the door. 

Gabriel and Sam exchanged a look, and without another word, Sam picked the body up bridal style and took it into the bathroom. Gabriel wiped himself down and threw the comforter over the stained bed. Hopefully it was nothing more than a neighbor or the management concerned about their noise level. 

He was not that lucky. 

As soon as he opened the door, two men with black suits and guns pushed in, followed by Dean Winchester brandishing a search warrant with a smile. 

“Hello, Gabriel,” he drawled, taking his handcuffs off his belt. “Turn around, would you?”

Gabriel offered him a raised eyebrow. “Nice to see you too, Dean,” he didn’t turn. “Can I ask as to the occasion?” 

“Don’t make me have to use force, Gabriel,” Dean countered, his partner Cas close to his side. “I would hate to have to explain you getting hurt to Sam.” 

“Who?” 

That was it. Dean snapped and slammed Gabriel against the wall next to the door, breathing heavily in his face. 

“My brother, you son of a bitch! Where is my brother?” Dean snarled, twisting Gabriel’s left arm painfully behind his back. 

Gabriel didn’t falter. “Oh yeah, him,” he responded. “Haven’t seen him. He still single? ”

Dean pushed even harder, and pain shot through Gabriel’s arm. “If I find out you so much as harmed hair on his head, God help me-” 

“Boss you gotta see this!” one of the agents who had come in first called back, opening the bathroom door. 

Gabriel’s heart started pounding rapidly in his chest. He hoped he had given Sam enough time to follow their plan, or whether Sam had followed it at all. He’d balked when Gabriel discussed it with him, refused for the longest time, but Gabriel had been insistent. Now was the moment of truth. 

Dean looked at the agent and then back at Gabriel, before grabbing his upper arm in a death grip and hauling him towards the bathroom. Gabriel felt as if seconds stretched into minutes as he and Dean looked into the bathroom. 

There was blood everywhere trailing into the shower where the lifeless body of Naomi Angelo lay, but nothing else. Gabriel’s stare shot to the window, and he had to cough to hide that he was laughing. 

The window was locked. 

From the inside. 

All the worry flooded out of Gabriel’s body at once, the tension leaving him in one giant wave of peace. He knew he was going down, but Sam was safe. Despite the fact that he was caught, Sam had escaped, and that was all the mattered to him. 

He looked at Dean, at Castiel, at the disappointed faces of the agents around him. They’d come busting in here sure that they would find something else grand. They’d probably been waiting for this for months, only to be rewarded with a lousy run of the mill homicide. He looked at their faces, their frustrated, joyless faces, and something bubbled up inside of him. As long as Sam was free, it wasn’t over. As long as Sam was free, he had hope. 

Gabriel Novak began to laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Winchester was drowning.

Sam Winchester was drowning. 

 

From the moment he had watched from the shadows as Dean dragged Gabriel out of the motel and stuffed him unceremoniously into a squad car, Sam felt like he’d been set adrift in a storm. Ever since he’d thrown his lot in with Gabriel, since he gave himself over to the darkness inside of him, Gabriel had been his compass of sorts, keeping him on the straight and narrow, tethering him down when he felt as if what was inside him would consume him whole. 

 

Without Gabriel, he couldn’t hold it back. 

 

The days and nights without him blurred together, as Sam beat himself up over leaving Gabriel to take the blame. It was something they’d discussed when they first started killing together, what they would do if and when someone eventually caught up with them. Gabriel was adamant that he be the one to take the blame. His reasoning, as he had explained to Sam  was that Gabriel had always been a monster, if they caught him, he deserved to go to prison, but Sam still had the chance to live a normal life again. He’d had one before Gabriel walked into his life. 

 

Sam had lost count how many times he had tried to argue this logic with him. Sam had killed people too, had helped Gabriel kill people. He was as much a monster as Gabriel was at this point, but Gabriel had laughed him off and made him promise that if they were caught,  he would run. Sam had pushed back, but there was no moving Gabriel when his mind was made up. 

 

Sam never thought they would have to use it. 

 

He’d never thought they’d be separated, that they’d either go down in a blaze of glory, or they’d retire, the very thought of being without Gabriel being nearly unbearable to him. But now, Gabriel was locked away, and he was on the outside, wishing that he could be with him. 

 

Sam rocked back and forth on the bed, Gabriel’s pillow crushed to his chest. He’d gone to one of the safehouses Gabriel had set up years ago, laying low until he knew anything more about Gabriel. His first thought when he’d gotten back as that he needed to save Gabriel, to get him out, but the monster inside him told him that that was a stupid idea, that he should wait and see how things panned out before charging in there like a white knight. As much as it killed him, Sam waited. 

 

He watched the news and the papers, especially the Daily Mail and the New York Post, hoping to hear something that would give him the foundation he would need to try and rescue Gabriel before it was too late for him. 

 

The voice inside his head, which had once been nothing more than a whisper in the darkest recesses of his mind, had grown steadily with each murder, developing into a voice he could swear that he knew. 

 

_ “Coward,”  _ it whispered as Sam held his head, trying to block out it out.  _ “You left him.”  _

 

“He wanted me to,” Sam hissed back. “He told me to, he made me promise.” 

_ “You left him,”  _ the voice insisted.  _ “Left him to die. They'll kill him. He's a dead man.”   _

 

Sam squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, curling his body into a ball. He tried not to listen, tried to take control of it like Gabriel had taught him, but his heart knew what he had done.  He'd abandoned Gabriel. 

 

If Gabriel had been the one free, Sam knew he would be out already, that Gabriel would have figured out a way to free him. He'd placed his trust in Sam, and Sam had failed him. If Dean had the evidence to connect him to the Karma killers, Gabriel would get a needle in his arm, and Sam would be alone, alone forever with the thing in his head.  

 

He couldn't let that happen.   

 

He had to get him out. There was no choice, not for him. The thing inside him began to talk again, but Sam pushed it back. He didn't have to time to listen to it's whispers, he had work to do. 

 

\------

 

_ Sam had blood on his hands. It was warm, and he could smell the metallic tang hanging heavy in the air. There was a body lying across from him, face down. He could taste his panic like a drink of whiskey, burning down his throat as he moved towards the person.  _

 

_ The body was completely still, no tremors, not breathing, nothing except the terrible, final stillness of death. Sam could almost feel the absence of movement, like ripples in a pond. He stepped forward.  _

 

_ “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said the voice he’d been hearing in his head, only it wasn’t coming from his head anymore, it was coming from behind him.  _

 

_ Sam turned around to find a man standing there, but not just any man; Lucifer Shurley.  _

 

_ Gabriel’s half-brother had his arms crossed and was looking at Sam with amusement. “You won’t like what you’re going to see.”  _

 

_ “Get away from me, you monster,”  _

 

_ Lucifer chuckled again. “Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think, Sammy?” he replied. “Seeing as you’re just like me, like your precious Gabriel.”  _

 

_ “I’m nothing like you!” Sam snapped. “Get out of my head!”  _

 

_ Lucifer didn’t move. “You may hide behind a mask of justice and righteousness like my little brother, but don’t fool yourself, Sam, you’re a cold-blooded monster like the rest of us.”  _

 

_ Sam pressed his hands over his ears, trying to block out that voice, just like he had tried to block it from the inside.  _

 

_ “Speaking of Gabriel,” Lucifer continued, circling Sam like a predator going in for the kill. “Where is my darling little brother? Oh yeah, he’s in the clink, isn’t he?” he taunted. “He betrayed me, his own flesh and blood, the person who taught him all he knows, for you. You, who gave him up at the slightest bump.” _

 

_ “No!” Sam screamed at him, crumpling to his knees. “I didn’t! He told me to go,”  _

 

_ “Oh Sammy,” Lucifer was closer now, almost in Sam’s ear. “He didn’t expect you to follow his instructions. He wanted you to fight for him, to prove your love for him, and you failed him.”  _

 

_ Sam curled more tightly into himself, rocking back and forth against the cutting blade of Lucifer's accusations.  _

 

_ “You failed him, just like you’ve failed everyone else,” Lucifer kept going. “Like you failed you mother, like you failed your father, like you failed Dean...”  _

 

_ “Shut up!”  _

 

_ “He’s gunna die because of you, Sam,” Lucifer’s body was gone, but his voice remained, echoing in Sam’s ears like the chimes of a clock. “If not in jail, then by your hand.” _

 

_ “That’s not true,” Sam cried, failing to block out the noise. “I would never hurt Gabriel!”  _

 

_ Lucifer’s disembodied voice chuckled in Sam’s ear. “So sure about that, are we?” _

 

_ Something in his tone had Sam sitting up, and crawling over to the body on the floor. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as if it knew what had happened.  _

 

_ Sam flipped the body over to discover it was Gabriel, dark livid bruises around his neck, the size of Sam’s hands. He pulled Gabriel’s body into his lap, sobbing.  _

 

_ “Gabriel,” he cried, his forehead pressed against Gabriel’s as he had done so many times, but Gabriel was still. “Gabriel, please, no. Gabriel, please.”  _

 

_ “LUCIFER!” _

 

He awoke in a cold sweat. 

 

\-----

 

Sam had been unable to get back to sleep after his dream, so he threw on some clothes and went to the 24 hour grocery store a couple towns over, just so he didn’t have to be alone with his terrible thoughts. 

 

He didn’t remember all of the dream, large parts missing as if they’d been whited out. But he did remember rocking Gabriel’s still body and that awful voice hissing accusations in his ear. 

 

He wouldn’t let Gabriel die, he had to rescue him, even if he died in the attempt. 

 

Sam got all the things he needed, beer, the makings for a salad, a candy bar until he realized there was no one at home to eat it, and made his way to the cashier. He looked up to speak to him, and there it was; the first step of his salvation. 

 

The headline read “KARMA KILLER WAS ONE OF US, INSIDE THE FBI’S DIRTIEST SECRET.”

 

Sam stopped breathing as he picked up the tabloid, staring at the pictures on the cover. There was an oval picture of Dean in the corner, they had used the portrait from when he had graduated from the FBI academy at Quantico, claiming him as the one who captured Gabriel. The biggest picture on the page was of Gabriel in his prison jumpsuit, with “NASHVILLE STATE HOSPITAL” stamped on the back in big block letters. 

 

Sam’s hearted stuttered in his chest, as he ran a finger over Gabriel’s printed face.The months they’d been apart had already changed Gabriel for the worst. The bags under his eyes, even in print, were as dark as pansies, his face full of sharp angles rather than the curves Sam loved to cup his palms around. It was as if he was withering away. 

 

Sam paid for his groceries and the magazine, his hands shaky and sweating as he thought of Gabriel’s brightness locked away in a cold dark cell by himself. He got into his car, and put his head on the steering wheel, his knees turned to jelly. Gabriel, his Gabriel, was trapped like an animal in a cage, and Sam was trapped by his own mind without him. 

 

He was almost all the way home before serendipity hit him like a ton of bricks. 

 

Nashville. Gabriel was in Nashville, that was a starting point. Sam had graduated from the top of his class at Quantico, he’d solved some of the hardest cases that had ever come through the FBI, surely he could get Gabriel out. It wasn’t like he had a choice. It was either save Gabriel and maybe get caught in the process, or he could be alone, with his mind forever. He already preferred prison. 

 

Sam lifted his head, seeing the night sky through his windshield. The moon hung heavy in the sky, and Sam wondered if Gabriel could see the moon and stars from where he was, if they were looking at the stars together. 

 

He wouldn’t fail him. 

 

Sam backed the car out of his parking spot and began to drive, the wheels in his head already turning out ideas as he travelled the familiar road. The strangely familiar voice cackled, adding its comments into the mix of ideas that were forming in his head. 

 

By the time he got home, and into his house, he had the barebones of a plan, all he needed was to do a little research and flesh it out. He wasn’t sure it would work, but it was the best he had, and that hope was what keeping his sane. As long as he had hope, he could fight his darkness, he could hold on for Gabriel. 

 

He sat down, and opened his laptop. 

 

~~~

 

Gabriel had always known his hobbies might one day land him in prison, but he hadn’t counted on landing in an institute for the criminally insane.  What was even worse, as when the forensic psychologist came to interview him, he told the truth, that there was a shadow in his head, a shadow that drove him to kill. That was all they had to hear to ship him from the federal pen to the crazy house.

 

It was almost comical for him,  having picked up a taste for lying along with his mother’s milk, to tell the truth and have everyone think he was insane 

 

After what Gabriel had been through as a child, the horrors of prison life were no surprise to him, but he was thankful that his celebrity prison status earned him a private cell and solitary confinement. He had enough stored in his head to keep him busy for awhile, but as the days turned into weeks and weeks to months, he began to dread the day when his own internal stores ran low. 

 

He’d had only one visitor, his half-brother Raphael, now a successful doctor with a wife and child, had come one weekend to bring him some things, but other than that, it was radio silence. Other than a quick word with the guards when they brought his food and let him out for his exercise, he didn’t have any human interaction. 

 

He had nothing besides his own formidable will to keep him from breaking down when he thought about Sam. Sam, who had been cast adrift, who was all alone out there with no one to turn to, to watch his back. He’d brought Sam into this life, fertilized what had already been planted, and tended them carefully, but now he was helpless now that it was time for harvest. Gabriel wasn’t worried about the danger Sam would face from the outside world, but more of the perils that lay inside of his own head. 

 

Gabriel had underestimated the thing that lived in Sam’s head, it was much stronger than his own, more dominant and independent. Gabriel had always enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship with his monster, but Sam’s was something different all together and Gabriel was afraid that one day Sam wouldn’t be able to pull it back. The only difference between Sam and Gabriel, and the other monsters of the world, was they were in control of theirs, able to direct and focus it as they chose.  If Gabriel wasn’t there to help him, who knew what kind of damage Sam would do? 

 

Gabriel laid down on his cot, closing his eyes, as he tried to pull up memories of happier times, times that didn’t involve blood or killing, or any of that, just him and Sam being together. They spent much of the time they weren’t traveling hunkered down in one of their many safe houses cooking, or snuggled up watching movies. They were like any other couple, except for their lethal hobby. 

 

He missed Sam’s calming presence, and the sound of his voice most of all. Sam would sometimes read to him before bed, and no matter what he was reading, poetry, or some scientific journal, Gabriel would drift off with Sam’s voice in his ears. Here, the only thing he heard was the shrieks of the other inmates as they fought through their dreams. 

 

Gabriel wasn’t sure how long he’d been laying there when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. He was at the end, so they normally didn’t get close unless they had something for him. He had already had lunch and it was too early for dinner, so it must be something out of the ordinary. 

 

“Novak!” the guard yelled through the food slot. “You got mail.” 

 

Gabriel sat straight up, his spine like a steel rod. Mail? Who was writing him? After their visit, Gabriel was sure that Raphael had washed his hands of him, and after his disgrace, he had no friends left to speak of. All he had was Sam but he’d told Sam not to write to him if they were ever in this position. It couldn’t be. 

 

The guard pushed the already open letter into the slot, and it slipped to the floor in a whisper of paper. Gabriel picked it up and retreated to his cot, waiting until he heard the guard’s footsteps fade away to gingerly pull the letter from it’s envelope. 

 

The institution staff and the FBI had already opened and read the contents of the letter, and had deemed it innocuous, or else he wouldn’t be reading it now. He unfolded it with shaking hands, and began to read. 

 

_ Dear Dr. Novak,  _

 

_ First let me say I am a big fan of your work, specifically your paper regarding radial and ulnar occupational markers of boxers. I wanted to do a follow-up piece focusing on MMA fighters, but wanted your permission to continue my research.  _

 

Gabriel paused, taking a deep breath. He was struggling with simultaneous feelings of anger and hope, anger at Sam having directly defied his wishes, and hope that Sam seemed to be alright. He continued, keeping his face a blank mask, in case anyone was watching. He had no expectation of privacy here. As far as the FBI was concerned, he belonged to them, even if they never found any evidence that connected him to the Karma Killings. 

 

_ In addition, I intend to thoroughly research on the occupational markers sustained by certain types of career criminals and would appreciate your feedback as my research progresses.  _

 

_ I look forward to your forthcoming reply.   _

 

_ Stella Wilson _

_ Stanford University.  _

 

To anyone else, this might look like an doctoral student’s letter to an expert in their field, like a letter from someone who was not only looking to supplement their own research, but also cash in on Gabriel’s macabre fame and the shock value of his byline, but to Gabriel, it was a lifeline. 

 

He held the letter between his fingers, imagining Sam writing it, hunched over his desk with the pucker Gabriel loved marring his brow. He imagined that he was touching where Sam’s fingers had been, that he could feel the warmth on the paper ever now. It kindled hope in his traitorous heart,  despite his clear instructions for Sam to run and forget him, that Sam had not, that he was working on a way to set him free. 

 

God, he loved him. 

 

As much as he wanted to tuck the letter into his pillow, to keep it secret and safe from the clutches of Dean Winchester and his toadie partner, he had to act like this letter wasn’t special, like it was just a brown-nosing letter from a stranger. If he let anything slip, they would start paying more attention and his communication with Sam would be cut off. 

 

Gabriel rose and crossed his cell to the small metal desk he’d been allowed, with the legs bolted to the floor, and sat down. He pulled out his paper and felt tip pen, and began to write. 

 

_ Dear Ms. Wilson… _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester was at a dead end.

Dean Winchester was at a dead end. 

 

He’d scoured every crime scene the Karma Killers had left behind, he’d gone over every piece of evidence, looked through the crime scene pictures so often they felt like they were burned into his brain, but he had not managed to find a single thing that connected Gabriel Novak to the Karma killings. He knew in his gut that Gabriel was involved, that Gabriel knew something, but so far the former anthropologist had said nothing. He’d had one visitor since he’d been locked up, received only letters from brown-nosing students, and only spoke to his lawyer. 

 

The cameras in his cell revealed nothing that Dean didn’t already know, and the guards had nothing to report. Gabriel was a model prisoner, He didn’t talk, he didn’t fight when they searched his cell, didn’t complain about the food and the only thing he spent his commissary on was sweets. 

 

He was unflappable. 

 

Despite the initial media frenzy and laurels he got for catching Gabriel, gratitude had a short half- life and now the pressure was on for Dean to make the charges stick. Other than the one murder, in which they had caught Gabriel red-handed, they had nothing and Dean was catching hell for it. 

 

But Dean had one more ace up his sleeve; Gabriel’s partner. 

 

The Karma Killers were a tag team of psychos, and if Gabriel was in prison, it meant his better half was still out there somewhere. If Dean played his cards right, Gabriel would roll over on his partner for a better deal, and Dean would get to cross them off of his list. 

 

He missed Sam in times like this. His brother would have been able to pinpoint exactly where to push on Gabriel to get him to talk. But he hadn’t spoken to Sam in 4 months, and he couldn’t even contact his brother if he tried. Dean had tried to wheedle  it out of him, but Sam had kept tight-lipped on everything in his life. He wouldn’t even tell Dean what he was doing for work. Dean had tried to figure out what nastiness Sam had gotten himself into, but he’d gleaned nothing from the sources he had available to him. 

 

Sam had disappeared nearly 4 years ago, after a particularly hard case they had, a killer the press had called the Hand of God. Sam had nearly worked himself to death over it, and the case went cold after Sam’s flight. At first, Dean had thought Sam had a mental breakdown and checked himself into a rehab, but when he didn’t resurface after a week, Dean got a bad taste in his mouth. 

 

He’d started tracking Sam’s phone and his bank account, but they showed barely any activity at all. He’d had no word of Sam for 6 months after that, and then he showed up out of the blue , waltzing into Dean’s apartment to tell him to stop looking for him.At first, Dean had thought it was drugs, or gambling, that Sam owed someone money, but that didn’t make sense. Sam wasn’t stressed when he’d come to see him, he looked happier than Dean had ever seen him. Dean had had only sporadic contact with him since then. 

 

Dean shook himself as he passed through the gates of Nashville State Hospital. He needed his wits about him when he spoke to Gabriel. He couldn’t afford to let the good doctor around his defenses. Gabriel was easily one of the smartest people that Dean had ever met save Sam, not that he would admit that, and with the higher ups breathing down his neck, he needed a win. 

 

He parked his rental car in the lot and got out, taking his briefcase with him. He had a meeting with the director of the hospital, and then he would get  his chance with Gabriel. Dean strode across the lawn, and through the front door, stopping at the desk in front to sign in and get his visitor tag. 

 

Dr. Gordon Walker was waiting for him just beyond the desk, with an expression that would have looked more at home  on the face of a lion than on a human. Dean could already tell from the way he was holding himself that he meant business, and that if Dean stepped one toe out of line, he would have no problem having him physically escorted from his hospital. Normally, Dean would have loved to push him a little, but he couldn’t afford another failure on his record, so he got right down to business. 

 

“Dr. Walker,” he started, extending his hand. “I’m Agent Dean Winchester of the FBI, we spoke on the phone.” 

 

Dr. Walker didn’t take his hand. “Right this way, Mr. Winchester,” he began to walk down the left side corridor. “I need you to sign off on some things and then I'll take you to see Mr. Novak.” 

 

“Doctor Novak,” Dean corrected him, following Dr. Walker’s long strides with his own. “He’s a doctor, Doctor.” 

 

Dr. Walker gave him another unpleasant look. “I don’t care what he was before he came here, Agent Winchester. As long as he’s here, he’s my charge and I’ll call him what I please.”  

 

Dean opened his mouth to add something, but he thought better of it. They were silent the rest of the walk down the hall to his office. 

 

Dr. Walker’s office was sparse and sad, the furniture clearly having seen better days. Dean didn't make a move for the one battered wooden chair and Dr. Walker didn't offer it to him. He fumbled around in his desk, pulling things out of his drawers before placing them down on the desk. 

 

“Would you consent to wearing a wire?” Dr. Walker asked, putting the contraption down in front of Dean, next to what he assumed was a consent form. 

 

“A wire?” 

 

“He hasn’t talked to anyone since he got here, and numerous agencies and academics have visited trying to talk to him,” Dr. Walker explained. “But he refuses to say anything.” 

 

Dean wanted to laugh at the very thought of Gabriel being quiet. Dean had only known him while Sam was dating him and he rarely if ever, shut up. He was always either talking or laughing, and Dean sometimes thought he would go crazy if he had to listen to him any more on the nights he visited Sam and Gabriel’s apartment. 

 

Dr. Walker continued. “We thought that since you have a relationship of a more …. personal nature with him, he might be willing to talk to you.” 

 

“He won’t talk at all if he knows I’m wearing a wire,” Dean pointed out. “And despite the fact you might not recognize his intelligence, he’ll know from a mile away.” Dean put his hands in his pockets. “He’s too smart for that, and I’m not going to blow the only shot I may have because you can’t get him to talk.”

 

Dr. Walker’s nostrils flared in anger and her ground his teeth but said nothing. He punched a button on his desk, and a few moments later an orderly appeared by the door. 

 

“Take Agent Winchester to see Mr. Novak,” Dr. Walker commanded. “Just leave your badge with the woman at the front desk,” he instructed Dean. “No need to stop by my office again,” and with that, Dean was dismissed. 

 

Trying not to bristle at the Doctor’s rudeness, he followed the burly orderly out the door and down the hall. There was only one light on at the end, and Dean assumed that was where Gabriel’s cell was. 

 

Gabriel was laying on his cot, with his eyes closed, but Dean knew by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that he wasn’t asleep. The orderly  rapped on the bars of Gabriel’s cell smartly. 

 

“You have a visitor, Mr. Novak,” he snapped. 

 

Gabriel sat up, and Dean got a better look at his face. He had lost weight since he’d been captured, and there were bags underneath his bright golden eyes. He fixed Dean with a smile as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. 

 

“Long time, no see, Dean-o,” he grinned. “Miss me already?” 

 

Dean snorted, earning yet another disapproving look from the orderly. The man turned and walked away, leaving Dean alone with Gabriel since the time he was arrested. 

 

Gabriel waited until the orderly was out of earshot before he began talking. “Pleasant fellow, isn’t he?” he smirked. “Makes me tingly in all the right places.” 

 

Dean gave him a deadpan look. “You look like shit.” 

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You don’t look too hot yourself, pretty boy,” he quipped. “What’s your excuse?” 

 

“Sorry, you’re not funny,” Dean responded, crossing his arms. Dean used to be amused by Gabriel’s barbs, but knowing what he was took the shine off his humor. 

 

“Bitter doesn’t become you, Dean-o,” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Sam thought I was hilarious.” 

 

Dean gritted his teeth. “I have something to say that just might interest you,” 

 

“Some things never change with you Winchesters,” Gabriel tutted, leaning against the bars. “Never any foreplay. Sam-” 

 

“I’m not here about Sam, you son of a bitch,” Dean seethed. “I’m here to give you a chance.” 

 

Gabriel just offered him a smug sort of smirk. “I’m listening.” 

 

“There’s nothing I can do about prison. You did kill someone,” Dean started. He had never been good at all the touchy- feely part of this job. That was always Sam’s forte. “But there might be a way to make it better for you.” 

 

“You aren’t doing this out of the goodness of your heart,” Gabriel observed. “What’s the benefit for you?” 

 

“All you have to do is tell me who your partner is,” Dean shrugged. “No big deal.” 

 

Gabriel fixed him with a withering look. “It was nice seeing you, Dean” he replied, starting to walk away. 

 

“Don’t you want books, or a view? ” Dean tempted, knowing Gabriel was almost as much of at egghead as Sam. “You have to be getting bored in here, and you’ll be here forever. Just tell me who it is, and we can have you out of here in no time. Better place, with a view and reasonable access to books.”

 

“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Gabriel turned to look back. “I ain’t got nothing to tell you.” 

 

“He left you, Gabe,” Dean decided to prod him a little more. He hadn’t asked for his lawyer yet, so that was a win in his book. “Left you to take the blame all those murders, to face the injection alone. He clearly doesn’t care about you. He’s an asshole, why cover for him?” 

 

“Like I told your squinty-eyed partner,” Gabriel responded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was one murder, singular.” 

 

“Cut the crap,” Dean replied, trying to look confident, like he had something that Gabriel didn’t know about. “We both know there was someone else there with you.” 

 

“You cut the crap,” Gabriel retorted, turning Dean’s words back on him. “We both know you got two things there, pretty boy. Jack and squat.” he taunted. “But if you had anything, which you don’t because I didn’t do it, you would have charged me already.  You aren’t good at this, are you, Dean?” 

 

Dean kept his mask in place, but underneath he was seething. He would not let himself be outsmarted by a serial killer. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recenter before he went to plan b. 

 

“I’m not. That was Sam,” he told him, softening the look on his face. Despite Gabriel’s quips when he was arrested, Dean knew he had a soft spot for Sam, loved him even if that sort of thing was possible for monsters. He wasn’t above using Sam to get what he wanted. “But you are.” 

 

Gabriel stopped mid-thought and turned to him, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of what Dean had said. “I am,” he replied tentatively. 

 

“If you aren’t the Karma killers,” Dean began as the the idea fleshed out in his head. “I bet you could help me catch them, couldn’t you? You’re a monster, you think like one.” 

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I could do without the name calling, but yeah, I bet I could, but it ain’t gunna come cheap.” 

 

“Information never is,” Dean admitted. He went to the hall closet just a couple feet down and pulled out a rickety metal folding chair. This he set down in front of the bars. He was going to be here a lot longer than he thought. “But a lifetime without a window feels longer.” 

 

Gabriel considered this for a bit. “That may be true, but until I have something in writing signed and sealed by the AG, you only get the free version.” 

 

Dean had known that going in, and it was going to be hard to the Attorney General to sign off on a deal with the devil unless he knew he was getting his money’s worth. Dean had to get something to take back to him, and he had to get it now. 

 

“Understood,” Dean grunted. “But you gotta give me something.”

 

Gabriel sat down on his desk chair. “What do you want exactly?” 

 

Dean thought for a moment. They had profilers at the FBI who could whip him up a profile without him having to jump through hoops like this, but none of them had inside knowledge. Without Sam, Gabriel was his best bet of getting a decently accurate peak inside the heads of his prey. He needed something meaty to tempted the AG with. “Get me inside their heads.”

 

“Why are you so sure it’s two of them?” Gabriel questioned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

 

“There’s no way one person could accomplish what they do,” Dean prefaced. “There’s never a struggle, never a witness, nothing.” 

 

“They understand each other so deeply, it’s like they are one person in two bodies,” Gabriel offered. “You’re looking for a man and a woman who are in sync with each other.” 

 

“A woman?” Dean paused. “That’s not what the profilers have said. Two men, possibly sexually involved, white, late 30’s early 40’s.” 

 

“They got it all wrong,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “Most tagteam killers are heterosexual, most likely these are too.” 

 

Dean wasn’t buying it. “Women normally fall into two categories of serial killers : black widows and angels of death, this is neither.” 

 

“That binary doesn’t follow for paired killers,” Gabriel argued back at him. “You know that. Look at Myra Hindley and Rosemary West. They killed with the same pattern as their men, outside that binary. Plus, with Aileen Wuornos, that didn’t follow either. It could be either of those situations.” He shrugged. 

 

Dean couldn’t tell if he was toying with him, or he just didn’t know and he was desperate to get out. “It could be neither,” he responded. “Don’t yank my chain,Gabriel. I can make it better for you, but I can also make it a lot worse.” 

“I'm not your dog, Dean,” Gabriel snapped. “I'm not Sam, I can't profile on command. I’m not an obedient monster like him.”  

 

“Sam isn't a monster,” Dean hissed through gritted teeth. “Did you even know him?” 

 

Gabriel only smirked at him with the shark’s smile that send Dean’s skin crawling. “Did you?” He retorted. “Do you know where he is now, Dean? Do you know what he's up to?” 

 

Dean didn't like the tone of his voice. He didn't like what he was implying, that a killer like Gabriel knew his brother better than Dean did. “Do you?” 

 

Gabriel chuckled, but it was a hollow sort of laughter, not his usual joy filled sound. “Wouldn't you like to know.” 

 

“Where is he, Gabriel?” Dean looked the killer straight in the eyes, but Gabriel didn’t flinch. He just gave him a sad sort of glance. “Where is my brother?” 

 

“Don’t ask questions when you don’t want the answers too, Dean,” 

 

“What does that mean?” 

 

“Night Dean.”  Gabriel said, and turned into his bed. 

 

“GABRIEL!” 

 

But Gabriel spoke no more and nothing Dean screamed at him could elicit any sound from him.  

 

He left with more questions than answers. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Without Gabriel’s cooperation, weeks bled into months and months to years, as the Karma Killers ran rampant. In the two years that passed, the killer had taken 6 more people, and the cooling period was shortening. Dean was  no closer to catching him than he had been when he first went to see Gabriel. Crime scene after crime scene, body after body, Dean searched for something, anything to tie it to Gabriel, or to anyone really. After three years, he had nothing to show for it. 

 

His supervisors were breathing down his neck, his coworkers had seemingly lost respect for him, averting their eyes as he walked through the Bureau, and his personal life was in shambles. He couldn’t sleep, barely ate, it was as if everything he touched fell to shit. 

 

He had nothing left to lose. 

 

Until the killer struck again, there was nothing he could do but drive himself insane. He might as well see if Gabriel had changed his mind. Only this time, he would be prepared. He knocked on the wooden door of the doctor’s office. 

 

“Come in.” came a voice from inside, and Dean stepped in. 

 

Dr. Eileen Leahy was sitting at her desk, staring at her computer, and she tipped her head at  Dean, giving him a smile. “Agent Winchester, please sit down. Just let me finish this report” 

 

Dean took a seat in front of her desk, waiting patiently as she finished typing. 

 

“There,” she gave him her full attention. “What can I do for you?” 

 

Dean pivoted so he was facing Eileen full on. The doctor was deaf, and she wore cochlear implants but Dean always made sure she could see his lips as well. 

 

“I’m going to talk to Gabriel Novak, Doctor,” he explained. “It didn’t go so well last time. I need your help, I need to get into his head. Did you read the files I left?” 

 

She regarded him for a moment before speaking. “Yes, I did. It’s going to be hard without actually meeting him.” she told him. “But if I meet him and then you come directly after, he’s going to know something is up.” 

 

Dean smiled. He liked Dr. Leahy. She had joined the Bureau shortly after Sam left, and Dean had a feeling his brother would have liked her. “I’ll take anything you can give me, Doc. I’m desperate.” 

 

“I’ll do what I can,” she responded, taking the file Den had left for her from the stack on the side of her desk. She flipped it open. “Gabriel Novak had the same sort of textbook upbringing as most serial killers,”  she began. “He had a rocky home life, his mother Rebecca Rosen was a drug addict, she was in and out of rehab most of his childhood. Gabriel was mostly raised by his half brother, Raphael. His stepfather killed himself when Gabriel was young.” 

 

Dean knew all of this, he’d read what his team had dug up on Gabriel from cover to cover, but he let the doctor go on. 

 

“His father Chuck Shurley is a recovered addict, and was in and out of Gabriel’s life as he grew up. In addition to Raphael, Gabriel also has another half brother, Lucifer Shurley known to the FBI as the -” 

 

“Devil of Detroit.” Dean finished her sentence. “My brother shot him in self- defense. Gabriel and Sam were an item before that. They lived together, got a dog, the whole bit. Gabriel disappeared after. Sam said they’d had a bad fight, and he took off.” he told her. “I don’t know how Sam didn’t know what he was.” 

 

“It can be easy to be blind to faults in people we love,” Dr. Leahy observed. “We want to believe they are good, even when it is obvious that isn’t the case.” 

 

Dean nodded. He’d pondered that over and over in his head since Sam disappeared but he balked at the idea that Sam had known what Gabriel was but loved him anyway. The Sam he knew would never love a monster like that, but Sam had changed, had pulled away from Dean, and then he vanished into thin air. Had Gabriel had something to do with it? 

 

No, Dean thought. Sam was the most hard-headed person he’d ever known. No one, not even the person he loved would be able to change his mind if he didn’t want to do something. Dean knew that first hand. 

 

Dr. Leahy continued. “If Gabriel is who you think he is, then he’s a narcissist,” she stated. “Although he’s trying to justify what he’s doing through righteousness, the fact that the murders are staged as they are would suggest narcissism. This isn’t just about him though. This is all a big show for his vanity, and his partner. He’s peacocking.” 

 

Dean resisted the urge to snort. He didn’t think Dr. Leahy would appreciate it, especially since she was taking time out of her busy schedule to speak with him. “That’s what we thought with the Candy Man as well,” Dean noted. The Candy Man had gone dormant. Bobby had guessed he was either dead or in prison, and it was generally accepted within the Bureau that the Karma Killers were copy cats, and admirers. 

 

“I’ve read the report,” she told him. “I believe the Candy Man also may have suffered from narcissism, but the difference is that with the Karma Killers, the displays aren’t to attract a mate, they are about celebrating their relationship.” 

 

“Celebrating how?” Dean replied, leaning forward on his knees. 

 

“Murders are a symbolic act for them, physical proof of their love,” she explained. “This is date night for them.” 

 

“I always preferred the movies,” Dean quipped. Dr. Leahy ignored him. 

 

“They didn’t start killing together,” Dr. Leahy went on. “But meeting each other and doing it together made it special for them. Have there been any other suspected Karma killings since he’s been locked up?” 

 

Dean shook his head. “In the three years he’s been locked up, there have been six murders,  with months between, following the same patterns as the originals. Bobby thinks it’s  a copycat, but I’m not so sure. What if Gabriel’s partner is continuing without him?” 

 

“It’s possible,” Dr. Leahy shrugged. “Or it could be the Karma Killers and you’re wasting your time investigating the wrong man. What do the forensics say?” 

 

“The forensics says two people,” Dean hesitated. “”Two sets of boots, and no struggle. It would be almost impossible to pick a person off that cleanly alone, and everything is precisely planned. Bobby doesn’t think one person could pull it off.” 

 

“I would agree,” Dr. Leahy nodded. “They aren’t opportunists, they chose their victims carefully. They stalk them, they wait for the perfect time and setting. It’s not about a time frame with them.” she told him.”You said Bobby thinks. What do you think, Agent Winchester?” 

 

“I don’t know what to think anymore, to be honest,” Dean admitted. “I know what the evidence says, but there’s something that doesn’t feel right. Something is ...off somehow.” 

 

Dr. Leahy regarded him for a moment. “Before you apprehended Dr. Novak, what did it feel like?” 

 

“It felt almost… I don’t know…intimate, stepping into a crime scene,” Dean’s skin crawled just talking about it. “With the Candy Man, his crime scenes were a show, like a movie theater, but these… these were different. I felt like…like I shouldn’t be there, like it wasn’t meant to be seen by anyone else.” 

 

“And now?” 

 

“Now? Now they feel like a one-night stand, like quickie in the bathroom,” Dean tried to explain, but it was hard. There was a desperation, a longing he felt in the newer crime scenes that made him itchy in a different way. 

 

“Like the love has gone out of the relationship?” Dr. Leahy wanted to know. 

 

“No,” Dean shook his head again. “Like it was never there to begin with.” 

 

Dr. Leahy paused again. “The earlier killings were special to them, it’s likely that they were love letters, intimate moments written in blood. They love each other,” she outlined. “But the more recent killings are different. So either, You’ve locked up half of the Karma killings and this is a copycat couple, or you have the wrong man, and there are two sets of them. Do you think you could get Gabriel to flip?”

 

He shook his head. “Already tried. Gabriel won’t give up his partner,” Dean added. “He’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, aside from my brother. We need a different angle. Something that he won’t be able to resist.” 

 

Dr. Leahy smiled at him for the first time since he walked in. “I’ve got just the thing in mind. Listen up.” 

 

~~~~

 

“Worthless,” the voice hissed in his ear. “Useless, spineless traitor.” 

 

Sam’s hands clenched and unclenched as he tried to block out the devil’s voice in his head. His eyes were shut tight against the intrusion, as he curled in on himself. 

 

Lucifer’s voice grew stronger, as if he was standing behind him. Sam opened his eyes to find the Devil standing in front of him, blood dark on his white shirt. He looked the same was when Sam had gunned him down, cocky and full of swagger with the devilish sort of glint in his eye. 

 

“Hey there, Sammy,” he taunted, his hands in his pockets. “Miss me?” 

 

Sam squeezed his eyes closed harder. “You’re not here, you’re dead, you’re not real,” 

 

“You wound me,” Lucifer put his hand to his heart. “After all we’ve been through? I’ve killed for you,” 

 

“You said they would let him out, you said they couldn’t keep him,” Sam argued back, his rocking becoming more violent with each pass. “You lied!” 

 

“I didn’t lie,” Lucifer’s voice became soft as he stepped closer to Sam, petting his hair until the rocking stopped all together. “It’s just not enough, that’s all. More and they’ll definitely let him out.” 

 

“You’re lying,” Sam sat up finally, wrenching himself from Lucifer’s grip. “You don’t want him out,” he accused. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” Lucifer replied. “Of course I want Gabriel out. He’s my brother,” 

 

“Because he chose me over you,” Sam pointed out, but he didn't like how his voice shook when he said it. “Because he loves me.” 

 

“Look where that love got him,” Lucifer retorted. “Prison and a needle in his arm.” 

 

“Don’t say that!” Sam snapped at him, turning to face him. “He’s going to be fine.”

 

“No he’s noooottttt,” Lucifer sang, grinning at him. “They’ll strap him down to a gurney, and pump-” 

 

“Shut up!” Sam whimpered, covering his ears again. 

 

“He said shut up to me,” Lucifer smirked again. 

 

Sam tried to block him out, singing Gabriel’s favorite song to himself to drown out Lucifer’s hateful words.

 

_ I never meant to be so bad to you _

_ One thing I said that I would never do _

_ A look from you and I would fall from grace _

_ And that would wipe this smile right from my face _

 

~~~

 

The Nashville State Hospital hadn’t changed much since the last time Dean had stepped foot into it almost 3 years ago. It was still unkempt, and worn looking, as if the weight of what was going on inside had seeped into the very bricks of the building. 

 

Much to his dismay, Dr. Walker was waiting for him at the front entrance, promising to be every bit as unpleasant and condescending as he’d been on Dean’s last visit. 

 

“Hello Agent Winchester,” Dr. Walker began, his hands behind his back. “Such a pleasant surprise to see you again.” 

 

Dean bit back the sharp response on his tongue, reminding himself that Dr. Walker was his access to Gabriel and he needed the win right now. “Likewise Dr. Walker,” he managed. He didn’t hold out his hand to shake, shoving them deeper into his pockets. “Dr. Novak still in the same cell? I know how busy you are.” 

 

“Yes, Mr. Novak is in the same place as the last time,” Dr. Walker responded, making eye contact with Dean as he said “Mr”. “I trust you know the protocol by now. Please leave your badge with the front desk attendant when you leave.” 

 

Dean watched silently as he walked away, waiting until he was completely gone to turn and head towards Gabriel’s cell. 

 

The lights were off when he stopped next to the cell, but Dean could see Gabriel curled like a shrimp in his orange prison jump suit. He stirred and sat up, as graceful as a cat as he turned and put his feet on the ground. Gabriel smiled when he saw Dean, getting up and crossing the small cell, until he was sitting at the chair next to his desk. “Hello Dean-o,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Here to try and get me to confess to the Karma Killings again?” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh please,” he replied. “Old news. We’ve got a new lead.” 

 

Gabriel looked thinner than he had three years ago, the angles of his face sharp instead of round. He was shrunken in his prisons orange, but his eyes were exactly the same, large, golden and full of mischief. “This isn’t about Sam again? I don’t know where he is,” 

 

Dean set his jaw. “No,” he bit back. “It’s not about Sam. He’ll come home when he’s ready. No, the copycats. I need your help catching the copycats.” 

 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Copycats? You think it’s copycats?” he questioned. 

 

Dean nodded, resisting the urge to smile that Gabriel had responded exactly as Dr. Leahy said he would. “That’s the current theory, and without Sam, I don’t have an angle, that’s why I need you. You’re a monster, you know monsters.” 

 

“Again with the name-calling,” Gabriel responded warily. “What’s in it for me?” 

 

“Getting away from Dr. Walker and his goonies. A transfer to a better facility, your books, a window,” Dean offered. 

 

“You said that last time, and I didn’t get shit,” Gabriel retorted. 

 

“You didn’t give me anything I could use last time,” Dean replied. “I can’t turn water into wine here. Quid pro quo, Gabriel.”

 

“I want it in writing, Dean-o,” Gabriel insisted. “Hard copy. Despite what Dr. Asshole thinks, I’m not stupid.” 

 

Dean waved a thick manilla envelope at him. “Signed and sealed by the AG,” he said, opening it and pressing the papers against the bars so Gabriel could read it. “It’s all here. All you have to do is tell me what I’m looking for.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “I ain’t signing anything without my lawyer,” he answered. “For all I know you could be trying to trick me.” 

 

“A copy should be in her hands. You can call and ask. I have no reason to lie to you.” Dean shrugged. “No skin off my nose. It’s a good offer, and the only one you’re ever going to get. Once I walk out that door, there will be nothing else. You’ll be stuck here in the basement with Dr. Condescension for the rest of your life. It’s up to you.” 

 

Gabriel considered him for a moment, staring  into his eyes. Dean got the shivers looking into his eyes, as if something more than just Gabriel lurked behind them. He turned so he wouldn’t have to look at him.    
  


“Tick, tock, Gabe.” Dean said. “Limited time offer,”

 

“Give me a minute to think!” Gabriel snapped back at him. “Get me the phone.” 

 

Dean waved at the orderly in his desk down the hall, and he walked over. “Please get Dr. Novak the phone, he needs to call his attorney.”

 

The orderly did as he was told, and brought the old-fashion phone, with the cord trailing as he walked. He plugged it in next to Gabriel’s cell and held the received through the bars. Dean watched as Gabriel dialed the number. 

 

“Do you mind?” he snapped. “Attorney client privilege.” 

 

Dean took a walk down the hall, secretly pleased with himself that Gabriel was buying into his plan. He’d been a little skeptical when Dr. Leahy had suggested it, but it seemed to be working like a charm. All he had to do know as reel him in. He heard the low buzz of a hurried conversation, and then the received click down as Gabriel hung up the phone. He passed the orderly as he made his way back to Gabriel’s pen. 

 

“So?” Dean asked expectantly. “I told you she had it.” 

 

“I don’t like this,” Gabriel told him. “I don’t like this one bit. You and the AG think you’re so slick -”

 

“I guess I’ll be going then,” Dean sighed. “Have fun dying here.” He turned on his heel and began to walk away. 

 

“Dean!” Gabriel called after him. 

 

“Buh-bye Gabriel,” Dean looked over his shoulder and waved at him, like a child just learning how to say goodbye. 

 

“Wait!” he called again, clinging to the bars. Dean didn’t respond, he simply started whistling. 

 

“Dean! You got yourself a deal,” Gabriel yelled down the hallway, the desperation in his voice bouncing off the walls. 

 

Dean flipped around and began to walk back slowly, making sure Gabriel could hear each step. He stopped in front of his cell, arms crossed mockingly over his chest.”You rang?” 

 

Gabriel glared daggers at him, and if Gabriel hadn’t been on the other side of steel bars, Dean would be scared. 

 

“How soon can I get out?” he asked, and Dean could hear the bitter edge in his voice. 

 

Dean pulled a chair out of the closest and took his recorder from his pocket. “When we catch them,” Dean responded, turning the chair and sitting on it backwards. 

 

“You better start talking.”

 

~~~~~~ 

 

Sam was on tenterhooks as he waited for Gabriel’s weekly letter.  He paced back and forth by the door, hoping to hear the click of the mail slot. Every letter was a lifeline, and he never knew if they’d discovered and it had been his last. He read them over and over, as if trying to feel Gabriel’s essence through the words. 

 

“He’s not going to replyyyyyy,” Lucifer sang from where he was sitting watching Sam wear a hole in the cheap carpet. “He forgot about you, Sammy. Time to stop resisting me.” 

 

Sam ignored him, not slowing in his pacing. 

 

Gabriel wouldn’t forget him. If anything, he would remember Sam was the reason he was in prison in the first place. If Gabriel blamed him for it, he never expressed it in his letters, writing only words of encouragement and love, or at least as much as he could in letters from various made-up psychology and anthropology students. 

 

Sam watched Lucifer pretending to blow bubbles out of the corner of his eye. He tried willing him away, but the tactics Gabriel had taught him to put his shadow back in the box had failed to work when the thing inside him manifested into a creature with a mind of his own. He wished he was here now, he would know how to get rid of his make-believe brother. 

 

The slot clicked, and Sam watched the letter falling slowly to the floor. He snatched it up before Lucifer could even get up, holding in close to his heart. His fingers trembled as he tore it open and flipped the folder paper out of it. 

 

His heart expanded as he read the carefully coded words, each and every one sending a spike of hope through him. 

 

Dean had asked for Gabriel’s help. They were going to transfer him…

 

Hope swelled in Sam’s heart and Lucifer laughed. 

 

“I know that look,” he chuckled darkly, the corners of his lips curling up in a smile. “Sammy has a plan, doesn’t he?”

 

Sam let the letter fall from his fingers. 

 

It was time to get to work. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

He should really just ask Dr. Walker for a cell, Dean thought as he pulled into the Nashville Hospital for the third time in two months. He parked in what he’d come to think of as his spot, and grabbed the bag of food from the front seat. 

 

He didn’t know how he went from an FBI agent to the personal food delivery boy of a deranged psycho. He took his briefcase from the backseat, and headed inside. The nurses and desk staff had become so used to his presence, they barely looked up when he signed in and took his security badge. 

 

Dean made his way down the hall to the interrogation rooms, where Gabriel was waiting for him. Even though most of Gabriel’s incentive wasn’t due to take effect until after the Karma Killers were behind bars, he did get certain perks, which were minor for him but a big pain in the ass for Dean. 

 

One of those perks was why they were here, instead of in Gabriel’s cell. For his continued help with the case, Gabriel got outside food, and the use of the interrogation room when Dean came calling. 

 

“What you bring me? Something good?” Gabriel chirping, half- snatching the bag from Dean’s hand and opening it. Dean watched as he dug through the bag pulling out a Big Mac and french fries. Gabriel plopped them down on the table and rummaged in the bag again, pulling out several packets of ketchup and squirting them all over his fries. 

 

Dean reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick manilla folder, dropping it on the table in front of him. Some of the pictures inside slid out onto the dinged metal surface. 

 

“Can’t a guy eat before you get out the pictures?” Gabriel mumbled through a mouth of burger, spitting food everywhere. 

 

“Two more murders!” Dean snapped, barely able to control the rage that was simmering below the surface at the sight of Gabriel. “Two more people are dead, all while you’ve been stuffing your face with fast food!”

 

“I’m a monster, not a miracle worker,” Gabriel retorted, taking a couple of french fries. “I can’t see the future, all I can give is a vague idea of where he might strike next.” 

 

Dean growled and sat down at the table across from him, glaring as he finished his food. “You’ve had enough. Look at the file,” 

 

“Fine, touchy,” Gabriel sighed, wiping his greasy fingers on a napkin. He reached for the file and opened it, spreading the pictures in front of him. He looked at one then the other, and when he was finished, he picked up the coroner’s reports. 

 

Even Dean couldn’t miss the smile on his face. 

 

“Not exactly my style, but you gotta admit these guys are pretty funny,” Gabriel laughed, putting the report down. 

 

Dean just stared. “I’m not paying you to be amused, Gabriel. Give me something I can use.” 

 

“What did he do?” Gabriel asked. “This guy, to attract their attention?” 

 

“Something minor comparatively,” Dean shrugged. “Aggravated stalking and harassment.” 

 

Gabriel frowned. “Yeah that’s minor compared to what these guys normally go for but then again, so was the cause of death.”

 

“If you consider beating someone to death minor, sure,” Dean replied. 

 

“Two hits does not constitute a beating, but I digress,” Gabriel retorted. “For these guys, that was getting off mild. There was no tableau, just a body dump. Something went wrong here.” 

 

Dean leaned forward. “Yeah?” 

 

Gabriel looked down at his hands, as if trying to imagine it. “They had a fight, or were interrupted. This isn’t…,” he moved his hand in a circular motion, trying to find the word. “Finished, it isn’t complete yet. They wouldn’t leave it like this unless they had to,” 

 

Dean looked at the pictures again, laying them out as he remembered them from the crime scene. “Are you saying that this wasn’t done?” 

 

“You're lucky you are so good looking because God, you are thick sometimes,” Gabriel sighed. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. There was more planned for this, I just know it.” 

 

Dean considered this. Maybe he needed to go back to the crime scene, if they were interrupted there was a better chance of them leaving something behind. “If you were them, what would you do?” 

 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked. “I’m trying to get myself out of the noose here, not put myself in it.” 

 

“What use are you?” Dean challenged. He knew from the back and forth he’d had with Gabriel before the best way to get him to say something was to goad him into it. “I’ll rephrase it, how would you rectify this situation if you were them?”

 

Gabriel considered it, worrying his lip between his teeth. “You said before that your doctor said that these murders were an expression of their relationship. What do you normally do after you have a fight?” 

 

“Flowers and chocolates?” Dean offered. “Apologies that you don’t really mean?” 

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Flowers and chocolate except with murder. They’ll want to make it up to each other, with something bigger, something better. If it was a fight, it’ll be something big. But if they were interrupted, that’s a different story.” 

 

“In what way?” Dean lead, him trying to get the the answers that he was after. Gabriel enjoyed being deliberately cryptic and Dean had no patience for it now. 

 

“The tableau is a big part of the act. It’s not only about the murder to them, the just desserts are half the fun,” Gabriel explained. “They’ll be angry about not being able to do it. They may lash out, trying to make up for it. Their cooling off period is already shortening, They may grab someone quick to fill the gap,” 

 

“Any idea where they may strike?” Dean asked.

 

“I doubt they would go very far, they want to get this done as soon as possible. They can’t stand feeling disconnected from their partner. Their relationship is everything to them, their reason for being. The thought of losing the other, being separated is worse than a death sentence for them. They’ll try to recapture the euphoria before they move on, they’ll strike close and soon.”

 

Dean stood up. He’d gotten what he’d come for. “Thank you, Gabriel. Is there anything else I can get you?” 

 

Gabriel stood up, the guard posted in the corner following suit. “Just paper and envelopes, stamps maybe.” 

 

Dean was immediately on guard again. “Who’s writing to you?” 

 

“No one special, if that’s what you’re hoping. A bunch of pasty undergrads looking for the freak value of my byline. After your dashing arrest, I seem to have become the new IT boy in forensic anthropology,” Gabriel told him. “So thanks for that,” 

 

Dean snorted. “Not like you have anything else to do,” he said, picking up the photos and reports and stuffing them unceremoniously into his briefcase. 

 

Gabriel fixed him with a glare. “Always a pleasure seeing you, Dean,” 

 

Dean just waved as he left, a little swing in his step. 

 

~~~~~

 

_ Dear Dr. Novak,  _

 

_ I found your essay on the decomposition of bones in concrete interesting. I am a big fan of your work in general, and wish to learn more from you.  _

 

_ My current advisor believes himself to be an expert in this realm, but I am not in agreement. I find myself chafing under his tutelage , like a boat set adrift in a stormy sea. I will admit there are certain subjects that you excel at, in which I am in need of your guidance. I am lost in these things, and hope your next letter will be illuminating.  _

 

_ Yours,  _

 

_ Sian Wexler. _

 

Gabriel wanted to puke. 

 

The letter dropped from his shaking fingers onto the table. The words on the page would seem normal and dry to anyone else, but to Gabriel, they were a cry for help. He blinked back the tears in his eyes, hiding them for the camera in an exaggerated coughing fit. 

 

Sam was in trouble. 

 

The thing inside him was taking over. Sam had written and told him about it’s growth while Gabriel was inside, told him how it was consuming him bit by bit, how scared he was. 

 

He had never felt so utterly helpless in his life. Gabriel had brought Sam into this life, and now when Sam needed him most, he wasn’t there for him. 

 

He resisted the urge to punch the metal table, knowing everything he did was recorded and gone over with a fine toothed comb. If he lost his cool now, they’d start watching his letters more closely, and while the high school dropout orderly would never decipher their codes, he didn’t want to push his luck with the cryptographers at the FBI. Sam was already in enough danger from the thing in his head, he didn’t need the FBI or his brother on his trail. 

 

Gabriel had to do something. 

 

He had no choice but to implement Plan B, as much as he didn’t want to. Plan A had been a slow acting one, and that was time Gabriel could just not afford, not with Sam slipping through his fingers like water trickling through a child’s cupped hands. 

 

He hated putting Sam in any more danger than he was already was, but if he didn’t take the risk, Sam would be gone to him forever. 

 

Gabriel had always been in control of his monster, always knew how to reign it in, but Sam, Sam hadn’t grown up with the thing whispering in his ear like Gabriel had. For Sam, it was trauma that had broken the creature free. 

 

Gabriel had known there was something wrong with him all his life. For him, he’d been born with it and he had been nurtured into full monsterhood by his abusive stepfather and drug addict mother. He hadn’t known there were other people like him until his absentee father, Chuck had come back into his life with his half-brother, Lucifer in tow. 

 

As much as Gabriel had tried to avoid his brother, something inside him drew him closer as if something inside Lucifer was calling out to him. It was when he discovered, he wasn’t the only one in the Shurley-Novak family who enjoyed his particular skill set. 

 

He’d learned early on in their relationship that Lucifer was different. Whereas Gabriel nursed a healthy fear of being caught and thrown in jail, Lucifer had no such compunction. He was reckless, dangerous with a devil-may-care attitude, and after the botched  murder of a co-ed, Gabriel cut ties with his brother, for good or so he thought. He buried himself in his school work, controlling his bloodlust in hunting, and the occasional bar room brawl. 

 

He’d  met Sam through the FBI where he was the star of Bobby Singer’s pack of hounds. Gabriel was the favorite forensic anthropology consultant of the BAU, and they’d worked a case together, and then another, and another. It had all snowballed from there. 

 

Gabriel had never meant to get attached but the moment he saw the familiar flicker behind the hazel of Sam’s eyes, he couldn’t just leave. Sam Winchester, of all people, harbouring the same thing that he was, was just too perfect to pass up. After his break with his brother, Gabriel had been alone with the monster, only letting it out to play when he couldn’t take it anymore. Even then, he never let it lose, sticking to those who deserved it. He’d earned himself a nickname at the FBI, the Candy Man Killer, and he’d never wanted anymore than that, until he met Sam. His and Sam’s courtship had been unremarkable, stolen moments between cases, dates, and movies, and nights spent in bed. They’d moved in together, and gotten a dog, all the things regular people in love do, until Lucifer decided to rear his head again. 

 

Gabriel had known it was Lucifer from the moment he’d stepped foot in the first crime scene. There was no way he could explain it to anyone else, but he just knew.But Lucifer had made his first and last mistake when he decided to go after Sam. He died still laughing with Sam’s bullets in his chest, but not before outing Gabriel for what he was. 

 

Gabriel had always known that there was a possibility Sam would find out what he was, but he hadn’t given up hope. He’d already seen the flurry of activity behind Sam’s eyes, the fledgling monster stretching its muscles, kindled to life by Lucifer’s death. All he had to do was wait. 

 

He couldn’t help himself when the next monster reared his ugly head. Sam was so off-kilter, so off course, he just had to help him. Gabriel planned what he thought was a fun scavenger hunt for the clues, mostly to entertain himself. It had been a long boring stretch after Sam let him go, and it was against his nature to make anything straight forward. His only worry was that Sam would back down. 

 

When Sam finally got to where Gabriel had the Hand of God Killer, AKA Rev. Michael Milton, he was less than amused, but Gabriel needn’t have worried. Sam was willing and able, and killing Michael Milton was only the beginning, both for Sam and for them. 

 

He hadn’t forced Sam to become a killer, but Sam wouldn’t be in this position if he hadn’t met Gabriel. He was Gabriel’s responsibility. 

 

He took a sheet of paper from his desk and began to write. 

 

_ Dear  Ms. Wexler…. _

 

_ ~~~~ _

 

Dean awoke  to the his phone going off on his nightstand. He’d dragged himself to bed at around two a.m. after combing through the files from the latest Karma killing. He looked at the clock, 4:27 am. Groaning, Dean pressed the phone to his ear. 

 

“Winchester?” he rasped into the phone, his voice rough from lack of sleep. 

 

“We got a live one,” Bobby Singer’s voice broke through the static. 

 

“What?” Dean yawned and rubbed his face, his brain still foggy. “What happened?” 

 

“They left one alive,” Bobby clarified. “We have a witness. Meet me at the hospital.”

 

Dean didn’t even respond, just hung up and began dressing as quickly as he could. 

 

He’d never left a scrap of evidence, nothing the FBI could trace or follow, and now he’d left a witness? It was like a gift from God. 

 

He pulled on a pair of jeans from the floor, and grabbed what he assumed was a clean flannel from his basket of clothing. He didn’t care how he looked, it didn’t matter. All he needed now was to get down to the hospital as soon as he could. 

 

Dean put on his shoes and coat, took his keys from the hook next to the front door, and slipped out the door into the early morning darkness. 

 

By the time he reached the  Washington Hospital Center fifteen minutes later, Dean was practically vibrating with anticipation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this worked up. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning, anxiously awaiting the time when his parents gave him permission to go downstairs to see his presents. Quickly locking his car, he bounded into the building, with a spring in his step. 

 

He went directly to the nurses’ station, flashing his badge and smiling broadly. Three minutes later, he stepped into a room on the third floor, showing his badge again to two uniformed security guards. 

 

“What took you so long?” Bobby looked up at him from one of the visitor’s chairs.  

 

“I was asleep,” Dean shook his head. “I do need my four hours, Bobby. What do we got?”

 

Bobby nodded towards the bed, and Dean looked at the figure on the bed. The face on the pillow was a mass of crisp white bandages and where the hands would normally be were wrapped, truncated stumps. 

 

Bobby waited another moment for everything to soak in before he responded. “Mr. Ketch here is a convicted sex offender, served 2 years of a 10 year sentence for child pornography,” Bobby explained. “He got out of jail recently, and apparently, returned to his old hobby. They cut off his hands, his dangly bits and gouged out his eyes. The nurses says he should be coming to any time now.” 

 

Dean almost wanted to feel sorry for the guy, but in his heart of hearts, he didn’t have one ounce of sympathy. The man not only victimized children, but taped it and spread their suffering to other monsters in the deep spaces of the web. He deserved anything that he got, but Dean wouldn’t say that to Bobby. 

 

He sat down next to him, taking the crossword from the paper that Bobby was reading. “Now we wait.” 

 


	6. Chapter 6

At 8:37 am, Arthur Ketch started to stir, the machines he was connected to beeping more rapidly as he struggled through the sedative haze. Dean and Bobby both looked at him expectantly, waiting until his frenzied movements stopped and he sat up. 

 

“Where am I?” he asked in a clipped british accent. 

 

Bobby cleared his throat. “Mr. Ketch, you’re at Washington Hospital Center. My name is Agent Singer, and with me is Agent Winchester. We’d like to talk to you about what happened,” 

 

The man visibly shivered, trying to burrow deeper into the blankets. “I don’t remember much but I’ll try to help if I can.” 

 

“According to your friends,” Bobby began, pulling a slim manilla folder from the briefcase by his feet. “They last saw you on Friday night. You played darts at the bar, and then left. According to their police statement, when they went to leave an hour later, your car was still in the lot.”

 

Mr. Ketch licked his lips nervously. “I don’t remember the parking lot, I’m afraid,” he prefaced. “I do however remember waking up. I was blindfolded, naked, tied to a chair,” 

 

Dean’s heart sunk a little. If he was blindfolded, he hadn’t seen his attackers, so Dean’s hope for a sketch artist were for naught. “Did he talk?” 

 

“There were two voices,” Mr. Ketch corrected. “Two men, by the sound of it. They addressed each other by name. Luke and Sam.” 

 

Dean’s sinking heart gave a feeble thump. Luke and Sam were both common enough names, but what were the odds that one of the men he was looking for had the same name as his lost brother?

 

Mr. Ketch continued. “They argued for a while and then…” his breath caught. “They started cutting.”

Dean didn’t need him to go any further. Bobby had filled him in in the hours it had taken him to wake up. After they’d taken Mr. Ketch, the killers had taken their sweet time removing the parts of his body he used to commit his crimes. His hands had come first, lopped off at the wrist. The killers had used a tourniquet farther up his arm, so he wouldn’t bleed to death before his time.

His genitals were the main event. Dean crossed his legs as Bobby described exactly what had been done to him, sparing no horrifying detail. First, they had inserted a thin glass tube into their victim’s urethra, and then shattered it.  After hours, they’d finally cut the entire thing off, using a method similar to how farmers often castrated young bulls. 

His eyes had come last, gouged out with a hot metal implement, cauterizing the wound as they removed them.

“Do you remember any sounds, Mr. Ketch?” Dean asked him. “Any accents in their voices? Did they say anything that sticks out?”

“There was music…” Mr. Ketch replied. “ Day of the Eagle, by Robin Trower ,  If I’m not mistaken. No accent that I could make out. They bickered a lot.”

“Like an old married couple?” Dean suggested.

“No... not quite,” Mr. Ketch responded. “More like…. Siblings. Luke was constantly trying to get a rise out of Sam, baiting him almost. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help; I was in and out for most of it. My last memory was of the police.”

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Ketch. We’ll let you rest now,” Bobby said, gathering his things to leave. Dean could tell Bobby wanted to ask more, but badgering a distressed and maimed witness would not help their case in the long run.

Dean grabbed his coat and the crossword, and headed into the hallway with Bobby close behind.

“The squints are at the crime scene right now with Cas,” Bobby informed him. “I just got a text from Jody. There’s something you need to see.”

“So it’s Jody now, huh?” Dean couldn’t resist tweaking Bobby just a little.  

Bobby glowered at him. “None of your damn business. Now you gunna follow me or what?”

Dean just smirked at him, pulling his keys out of his pocket. He thought he distinctly heard Bobby mutter “Idjit” as he slipped behind the wheel. Dean gunned the engine of the Impala, and followed him out of the parking lot.

The crime scene wasn’t far, a little over an hour by back roads. There were local officers milling everywhere when he pulled onto the grass and got out, thankful he’d decided to dress in street clothes rather than his nice leather shoes.

The ground under his feet was boggy as he followed Bobby through the trees. He could see the forensics van in the distance, parked next to a rickety shack. For a moment, he was taken back to another crime scene. He and Sam had been hot on the trail of the Candy Man, who his latest murder scape put them in a similar shack. The inside had been spruced up, a fresh coat of white paint to go along with the recently deceased body. Dick Roman hadn’t been much better than Arthur Ketch, luring children in with candy, but the way he had died was far more poetic. Dick Roman had died from specially prepared candy. He’d chosen how he died, as each candy contained a different poison wrapped in a hand-painted wrapper.

The Candy Man had a better sense of finesse that his Karmic counterpart, which was always why Bobby knew they were different people. For an MO to change so drastically, it was largely unheard of. The Karma Killers were more brutal and less literal, even though the objective was the same.

Dean’s partner, Castiel Collins, was waiting for him at the door, chatting with the Forensic supervisor, Jody Mills.

“What do we have?” he asked. “Bobby said there was something I had to see.”

Jody and Cas exchanged a look. “There’s a message… for you,” Jody replied hesitantly. “At least we think it’s for you.”

Dean stepped inside. The inside of the shack was just as dingy as the outside, nothing of the careful preparation that had been associated with the Candy Man’s crime scenes. There was a chair against one wall, black ropes from where they had tied down Arthur Ketch, blood droplets on the floor beneath it. There was broken glass and a metal drum that looked like something had been burnt inside of it.

Jody pointed to the battered wooden table off to one side, where Donna was working in her standard issued forensic coveralls. “Whoever did this isn’t happy with you arresting Gabriel Novak for his crimes.”

Dean leaned over, recoiling from the grisly message.

On the table was a tabloid, headlining his capture of Gabriel Novak in connection with the Karma Killers.  Scrawled in dried blood was a message, circling Gabriel’s head inside the O.

“Wrong Man, Dee.” It read. Holding the paper, were what Dean assumed were Arthur Ketch’s severed hands, but that was not the reason Dean felt his stomach seized in horror.

Dee was Sam’s childhood nickname for him, something only Sam knew.

“There’s a fingerprint in the blood on the second E.” Donna told him, leaning over it with her camera. She snapped a couple times, before putting the camera down. She reached into her kit, and pulled out a jar of black powder,  a dusting brush and an injector of clear silicon. She dusted it delicately over the print and then covered it in gel.   “But it doesn’t look like it’s from whoever wrote this. It’s clear. It looks like it was pressed here deliberately.”

Dean was only half-listening, lost in his own mind. Both of their parents were dead, the only people who knew that Sam called him Dee, were Dean and Sam.  Dean stuffed his hands in his pocket, knowing that even the subtlest of shakes would give him away to Cas and Bobby. The people who had done this had had contact with Sam, knew he was Dean’s brother. That was the only explanation his mind could come up with.

“I’ll call you as soon as we can run the print through the system,” Donna told him, but that wasn’t good enough for Dean.

“I can’t wait,” He said, reaching for the evidence bag in her hand. He had to know now if the horrific idea that had popped into his head was true. The fingerprint could be Sam’s, and if the fingerprint was Sam’s, that meant one thing; the Karma Killers had his brother. “Can you print me out a copy?”

“Jody can,” Donna told him, handing him her camera with a knowing sort of look. “We have a printer in the van.”

Dean walked out of the crime scene, taking huge gulping breaths of fresh air to try and clear his head. He was a seasoned agent, unflappable under most circumstances, with one blatant exception: Sam. Sam had always been his weakness, ever since they were kids. Any bully who wanted to rile him up just went after Sam, even Gabriel knew how to play him like a banjo, but Sam was his brother, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. 

He was so off his game that he didn’t even register Castiel sneaking up behind him. 

“Is there something wrong, Dean?” Castiel asked, scaring Dean nearly house of his skin. “You seem...on edge.”

“Give a guy some warning, Cas,” Dean accused. “Yeah I’m fine.” 

Cas wouldn’t give up though. “You are not fine. If you were fine, I wouldn’t have been able to startle you just now.” 

Damn Cas and his observations. There was no hiding it now. “The note in there… Dee… Ahhhh, Dee is what Sam used to call me… when he was too little to say Dean. I’m just worried, that’s all. No one else knows” 

Cas blinked at him for a moment. “It’s possible Sam told someone,” he offered. “It’s  also a common derivative of your name. When the last time you spoke to Sam?” 

Dean had only told Cas the barebones of what had happened with Sam. He told him he was burned out and he needed some time for himself, which he guessed was true in a way, but he had been gone for years now. His excuses were getting tired. 

“A couple months ago,” Dean said finally. “I’m sure I’m just being paranoid. Protective big brother instincts don’t go away just because he can take care of himself, ya know?” 

“I don’t have any younger siblings but I’m sure my elder brothers would agree with you,” Cas said, and it made Dean smile if only for a moment. 

“Thanks Cas,” he replied. “Let me get that print from Jody, put myself at ease. I’ll meet you back at Headquarters.”

Cas smiled and strode away, back towards the crime scene. If Dean knew Castiel, it would be hours before he got back, going over everything with a fine toothed comb. They were good for each other in that way, cunning and effective, their different styles of working complimenting each other perfectly. 

 

After a pit stop to grab a copy of the print from Jody, Dean made a beeline for the Impala, wanting to clear the stench of the crime scene from his nostrils as soon as he was able. He knew it would catch flak from Bobby later, but right now he had to know.

He raced back to Headquarters, making the hour trip in an easy forty-five. The FBI headquarters in Washington D.C. was always buzzing with activity, like bees in a well-tended hive. Dean felt like in the years since he’d joined the FBI, he’d easily spent more time here than he had in his own place. It was the nature of the job, but Dean could not have been happier, until now.

Now he was tense walking through the once welcoming halls, stewing in his own perhaps misguided sense of failure. He’d let Bobby down and more importantly, he’d let Sam down. Sam hadn’t just left the bureau, he’d left Dean’s life altogether, other than occasional phone calls. He couldn’t help but feeling like it was his fault.

Dean knocked on the door when he reached the lab, waiting for the technician to come to the door. A small Asian man answered the door, looking up at him.

“Hey Kevin,” he said, as he opened the door wider. He liked Kevin the best of the in-lab squints. The kid was a whiz and he’d never failed Dean in the past. “I have a job for you.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Of course you do,” he ushered him inside. “Or else you wouldn’t be here. You still owe me ribs from your last rush job, you know.”

“I know.” Dean brandished the evidence bag containing the fingerprint. “I need you to run this.”

“This have anything to do with the Karma Killers?” Kevin asked, pulling on a new pair of latex gloves and taking the bag from Dean’s hand.

“Yes,” Dean answered honestly. “Or else I wouldn’t be hassling you.” He watched as Kevin pulled the print card carefully from the bag and pressed it to his scanner. With the push of a button, the print was uploaded into the system, and popped up on the screen next to it.

“Do you have any starting parameters?” Kevin asked, sitting down at his desk chair.

Dean’s heart pounded. “Start with FBI employees.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment. He turned back to his computer, pressing buttons. The system began comparing, flashing green on the screen.

Dean was lost in his own head again, trying to think when the last time he’d heard from Sam was. It had been a couple months at least, and it had just been a brief call, shorter than usual if his memory served him. Sam normally called every couple of months, just to call and let Dean know he was alive. As hard as Dean tried, he could get nothing from Sam about where he was or what he was doing. He always seemed happy, but without seeing him in person, Dean had no true way of knowing. He’d tried tracking him through his phone and credit cards, but Sam had caught on quick, warning him to stop.  His gut told him Sam was involved in something bad, but he had no evidence to prove it. He’d never known Sam to be a gambler, or a drinker, hell the man subsisted on salads for most of his adult life. He just couldn’t figure out what else would cause him to drop off the face of the earth like he had.

He was so distracted, he didn’t hear Kevin calling his name. He felt a hand on his arm as Kevin shook him.

“What, what?” he stared at the other man.

“I said I got a match,” Kevin repeated, giving Dean a strange look.

Dean shook himself. “Yeah so what is it?”

“The fingerprint from the crime scene matches Sam Winchester.”

~~~~

What Dean was not expecting when he got back to his desk was a message on his answering machine from Gabriel Novak.

“Uh Dean... It’s Gabriel. You probably gathered that from the nifty little message before this… but uh anyway...I got a letter today. I think it’s from your boys. You better bring a forensics team… there’s blood on it…”

With one call to Bobby, Dean was on the next flight to Tennessee, with nothing but the duffel bag of extra clothes and toiletries under the desk. He was unsurprised to find Donna in the seat next to him, looking similarly unprepared. She stowed her carry on in the storage compartment over them and sat down, hogging the armrest.

Dean did not fly well, he preferred to drive if possible, but he needed to get to Gabriel sooner rather than later.

“I didn’t know you were consulting with Gabriel,” Donna said, pulling a Sudoku book out of her purse.

“Bobby was trying to keep it on the DL,” Dean explained through gritted teeth, clutching the armrests as the airplane taxied down the runway. “On a need to know basis.”

“Wasn’t he dating your brother?”

It was going to be a long flight.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite Donna’s cheerful chatter, Dean managed to fall asleep as soon as they reached cruising altitude, only to be jostled awake as they touched down at Nashville International Airport. There was a car waiting for them, and after gathering Donna’s mobile forensics kit, they started towards Nashville Hospital.

Dr. Walker was not pleased to see Dean, but his frown turned into a smile when he saw Donna coming up behind him.

“Dr. Walker, this is Donna Hanscum, one of our forensic specialists. She’ll be assisting me today.” 

Dean inwardly cringed at the way Dr. Walker smiled and held out his hand for Donna, but he smirked at the way she pleaded with her hands full of forensics equipment. The two FBI agents excused themselves and Dean led Donna down the long and familiar hallway towards Gabriel’s cell.

Gabriel was waiting for him, handcuffed backwards against the bars, flanked with two armed guards. He looked drained, the dark bags under his eyes only making his golden irises stand out brighter.

“And you brought company!” Gabriel burst out, smirking as he caught sight of them over his shoulder. “Long time no see, Donna.”

“Where is it?” Dean demanded, as one of the guards unlocked the door of Gabriel’s cell.

“Hello to you too, Dean,” Gabriel gave him a look. “It’s on the table. The fingerprints on the outside envelope will be useless, but I’m the only one that touched the letter.”

Dean leaned over the table, pulling gloves out of his pocket so he could inspect the letter. It was laying on the table, folded over, but Dean could see the stain of the dried blood through the thin paper. Carefully, he opened it, spreading it out so Donna could photograph it.

She snapped several shots and then moved to the envelope. Dean doubted she would get anything off that. Like Gabriel had warned them, it had been handled by the mail system, not to mention all the people that had touched it in the hospital. The postmark might be worth something in the investigation, but Dean didn’t have the time to care. His time was better spent on the letter. He began to read:

_ Dear Mr. Novak, _

_ It has come to our attention that you have been getting credit for our work. _

_ Please inform Agent Winchester that we hope our message was clear. If he wants his brother back whole and unharmed, he will do as instructed. _

_ He will make sure we get credit for our work, and that you do not.  _

_ We will trade his brother for you, under our terms.  _

 

  * __He will come alone. If we see any other FBI or police, his brother is dead.__


  * _He will come unarmed._


  * _The meeting point will be at the Broward County Mystery spot on April 1, at midnight._



 

_ If he does not show, or breaks one of our demands, his brother will be our next victim.  _

_ We hope there are no hard feelings, Mr. Novak, but as an academic yourself, you understand why plagiarism must be punished accordingly. _

At the bottom, there was a loopy signature and just below that were two fingerprints, pressed in blood like the one at the crime scene. Dean had a feeling at least one of them belonged to Sam.

He could feel Gabriel’s eyes boring into the back of his head, and he turned to find him staring at him with a worried look on his face. He out the letter back down on the table, and Donna zoomed in on the prints with her camera.

“Uh Deano,” Gabriel started, pulling against the handcuffs. “You… you can’t just give me to them… they’ll kill me.” 

Dean didn’t look at him. He would trade Gabriel’s miserable hide from Sam in a second, the problem was getting his supervisors to agree to it. Even if Gabriel was a murderer, they wouldn’t sell him into torture and death even for one of their own. But Dean couldn’t just leave Sam at the mercy of two maniacs.

Gabriel had made his bed when he decided to take a life, even if that life was as despicable as Naomi Angelo’s. Sam had done nothing wrong, the only person he had killed was in the defense of his own life, and he had felt remorse for that. Gabriel hadn’t. If Gabriel got killed in this attempt, that was no skin off Dean’s nose. He wouldn’t lose a single night of sleep, but Sam had been his charge since the day he was born, his father had placed his newborn brother in his arms, and told him to protect him. Dean wouldn’t forsake that promise now, and not for a fucking coward like Gabriel Novak. 

Donna was just slipping the letter into an evidence envelope when Dean motioned for the guards to let them out. 

“Dean!” Gabriel struggled hard against his restraints, causing the guards to come closer to him. “Dean, please, no. Please!” 

Dean didn’t hear him. 

~~~~~

“The AG will never agree to it, Dean,” Bobby said, leaning back in the large leather chair behind his desk. “Even if he’s a killer, they won’t trade him.”

“But that’s the beauty of it, Bobby,” Dean insisted, sitting on the corner of his desk. “It won’t be a trade, not really. We set a trap, make it look like we’re going to make the drop, and grab them both plus Sam. Gabriel will be safe the entire time.”

Bobby gave him a look. “We don’t even know if he has Sam,” he pointed out. “He could be bluffing to get a chance at Gabriel.”

“Are you willing to take that chance?” Dean replied. “I can’t get Sam on his cell phone. The fingerprints from both the crime scene and the letter to Gabriel are Sam’s. It’s in Sam’s blood. What more do we need!?”

Dean hadn’t meant to lose his cool, but he couldn’t just sit here making small talk while two psychos had Sam.  

“We can’t go into this all willy-nilly,” Bobby retorted. “We go off half-cocked, and people could get hurt, including Sam. We have to have a plan.”

“April 1 is in three days,” Dean pointed out. “We don’t have time for all the bureaucratic bullshit.”

Bobby sighed, and Dean knew he had him, Bobby hated the red tape and paperwork just as much as Dean did. He wanted to save lives and nail these guys. If there was any hope for getting the trap to work, it lay with Bobby working his magic on the AG.

“I’ll see what I can do with Missouri,” he replied, and Dean’s heart unclenched for the first time since the crime scene.

“First name basis,” Dean noted, his relief making the urgency fade from his body. “First it’s Jody, then Missouri...”

“Get out of my office,” Bobby commanded, and Dean didn’t need to be told twice. The last time he’d barely survived with his dignity intact. Bobby had lethal aim with newspapers, pens and other office supplies, and his stapler was well within reach.

“Alright, alright, I’m going to see what the squints have dug up on the crime scene.” Dean added, getting to his feet

Bobby didn’t waste any time shutting the door on Dean’s retreating back.

He made his way down the corridor, and into the elevator, taking it all the way down to the basement where his forensic team made their home away from home. 

Dean rapped on the door smartly. He had learned long ago to make his presence known, he could only walk in on black putrefaction so many times before he tossed his cookies. 

“Come in!”

Dean walked in to find his team hunched over their respective work stations, each of them wearing goggles and identical white labs coats. 

“Hey guys, got anything for me?” he asked, trying to peek over Garth’s shoulder to see what he was doing. 

“Leave him alone, Dean,” Jody piped up from her place at the mass spectrometer. “I got the work up over here.” 

They met at her desk and Jody handed Dean a thick sheaf of paper. “This is all the test results.” 

“Can you summarize it for me?” Dean smiled at her. 

Jody rolled her eyes. “Why can’t you just read it?” 

“I’ll read it later,’ Dean responded. “Just give me the cliffnotes now.” 

She sighed, and opened the packet. “All the blood at the scene belonged to Mr. Ketch, and you already knew the fingerprint was Sam’s. We found one full footprint, and several partials but there are tire treads obscuring them.”

“The witness said there were two people,” Dean put in. “Do we have evidence to confirm that?” 

“I can’t confirm there were two perps,” Jody sighed. “But we also can’t confirm otherwise. It’s possible there were two people. We have no choice but to trust the witness on this.” 

Dean grumbled. In his experience, unless there was evidence backing them up, he didn’t trust an eye witness. Too many of them stretched the truth, or recounted it wrong. “Anything else?” he asked. “What about the letter?” 

“There are two prints in blood on the letter Gabriel received,” Jody told him. “One belongs to Arthur Ketch, the other is Sam’s. All the blood belongs to Arthur Ketch. The only other latent prints on the letter belong to Gabriel.” 

Dean had been hoping for something more, but his opponents had already proved to them were smart. They wouldn’t mess up, not now when they were the ones in control. He clenched his fists. 

“What are you going to do?” 

Jody’s question brought Dean back to himself. “What choice do I have? They have Sam, Jody,” he replied, straightening. “ I have to get him back.” 

“At the cost of a man’s life?” She questioned, looking him over. Dean couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“He gave up any chance at my sympathy when he killed someone,” Dean replied, taking the enveloped from her. “Thanks Jody,” he said, and walked out of the the lab. 

~~~~

Dean didn’t think he’d be back in Tennessee so soon, but one of the Attorney General’s caveats to agreeing  with his plan was getting Gabriel to go along with it. She wasn’t sending him out unwillingly. So, back to Tennessee it was.

Dr. Walker didn’t even come out of his office to greet him, allowing the nurses to do it instead. He trod the familiar path to Gabriel’s cell, but the lights were turned down, and in the darkness Gabriel was only a small lump buried under his covers. Dean rapped his knuckled on the bars, the low plinging sound of it echoing against the cinder block walls. 

“Go away,” Gabriel growled from the depths on his blankets. “Leave me alone, Dean.” 

“They have Sam,” Dean told him. “They’re going to kill him if I don’t hand you over. If you loved Sam, you would-” 

Gabriel sat up like a shot. “Don’t you dare do that to me!” he growled, but his voice cracked with emotion. “Just don’t!” 

“I need to save him, we need to save him,” Dean replied. “You won’t be in any danger. I’ll have Cas as back up. We’ll catch them once and for all, and you’ll get to see Sam again.” 

“And a transfer,” Gabriel added, getting up. “Don’t forget that.” 

Dean wanted to roll his eyes, of course even under these circumstances he wouldn’t forget that. “And a transfer,” he responded begrudgingly. “After they’re captured.” 

“So what’s the plan?” Gabriel got up finally, padding towards the front of his cell. He had put on a little bit of weight since Dean had started bringing him fast food, and standing there in the darkness of his cell, he looked much like when Dean had first met him. 

“We’re following their plan. You and I will meet him at the Broward County Mystery Spot. They’ll get you, I’ll get Sam, and then Cas and I will get those suckers. No one gets hurt.” 

“That simple, huh?” Gabriel crossed his arms. “What happens when it goes bad?” 

Dean glared. “It won’t. Cas has our back, and they’ll be other agents as back ups.”

“They said not to bring anyone else,” Gabriel pointed out smugly. 

“They won’t know,” Dean retorted. “He won’t be with us, just far enough away to help if things get messy.” 

“They aren’t stupid, Dean. These are smart, organized men, not the dumb goons you’re used to dealing with,” Gabriel replied. “One wrong step and they’ll kill Sam … and me.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean spat back, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side. Every second he spent arguing with Gabriel felt like a second wasted, a second when he could be looking for Sam. “You asked for a plan, and I gave you one. It’s the best that I’ve got so, unless you’re giving advice on how to make it better, I suggest you zip it.”

Gabriel looked at him for a moment, before giving him a sly smirk. “Since you mentioned it, I do,” he replied. “Two cars making their appearance at the same time is a big fat red flag that both are FBI,” he began. “Cas needs to get there first with another agent. Agent pretends his car broke down, something, I don’t know. The Killers will most likely be staking out the place in advance, at least a couple hours, but one supposedly empty car alone isn’t enough to raise suspicions,” Gabriel suggested. “It won’t really be empty, but of course the killers won’t know that. Cas’ll be in the trunk, ready and waiting for when we get there.”

Dean had to admit, Gabriel’s suggestions made sense. If the killers were there in advance, and saw someone they’d never seen before leave their car, they wouldn’t think anything of it. It happened all the time. Already the wheels in Dean’s mind were turning, working out how to seamlessly incorporate Gabriel’s idea into his plan. “Go on.”

“You and I get there on schedule, the Killers show their faces, with Sam. Cas hits the alarm, comes out of the trunk, bada bing bada boom! Killers are caught, Sammy is safe, you’re a hero. I get my transfer. Everyone’s happy. Sound good to you?”

“If anything happens to him, you aren’t getting shit.” Dean warned him. “You can die here for all I care.”

“Despite the fact you think I’m a heartless monster, Dean,” Gabriel replied levelly. “I do care what happens to Sam. I’m doing this for him.”

Dean snorted.

“Laugh all you want, pretty boy,” Gabriel snarled. “I’m only helping you for Sam, so unless you need anything more from me, piss off.”

Gabriel made a show of stomping off to his bed and throwing the blankets over his head. Dean couldn’t see him smiling as he walked down the corridor the way he came.

Underneath his blankets, Gabriel slipped a hand into his pillowcase, taking out the letter he had been writing before Dean’s visit.

_ “Dear Ms. Wilson”, _ he wrote, unable to swallow his peals of laughter. “ _ The research I am conducting for your paper is going according to plan…” _

 


	8. Chapter 8

As April first crept closer, Dean could not keep still. He found himself up at all hours, unable to sleep without images running through his head. He knew he needed to rest, needed to be on his game, but the nagging center in his brain just wouldn’t stop. He kept seeing Sam in his mind’s eye, Sam as a toddler, falling as he learned to walk; Sam as a kid with his missing teeth. He saw Sam as a gawky teenager, with a face full of braces. He saw Sam with Jess, happy and in love. Dean saw Sam as he was in all stages of his life, and he couldn’t fathom a world without Sam in it.

He couldn’t fail. There was no choice, not for him. He would either get Sam back, or die trying.

But it wasn’t just Sam he was seeing in the darkness, there were flashes of Gabriel, too. Faintly remembered game nights at Sam and Gabriel’s apartment, shared dinners, and drinks at the local watering hole. Some part of Dean felt guilty for putting that Gabriel in the line of fire, but another part of him knew that that Gabriel, the one whom his brother had loved, had never existed to begin with.

Dean went over the evidence again and again, hoping beyond all hope that he had missed something, that there was some other way to catch them, but time after time, he came up with nothing. This was it. 

Bobby and the squints did little to help him focus his nervous energy. Bobby was up to his ass in alligators as it was, dealing with all the red tape that came with this sort of operation. The squints were on double duty, checking and rechecking everything, because they needed their ducks in order once the Killers were apprehended, things would move fast after that. With a case this important, there wasn’t room for mistakes at this juncture. 

Dean haunted the halls of FBI headquarters like a wraith, nursing cup after cup of the sludge that passed as breakroom coffee. Some agents shook their heads when they saw him, other stopped and offered him words of comfort and advice. Dean felt like he was expecting a baby, and maybe in a way he was. He’d been chasing these killers for three years, spending all his time and energy trying to grab them like smoke through his fingers. This was the culmination of everything he had worked for, and still he felt like something wasn’t quite right. Something in his gut kept nagging him, but he chalked it up to nerves. There was so much riding on it, anyone would be nervous.

When he wasn’t traipsing all over the building, Dean had to sit through what seemed like endless meetings with the AG, Bobby and other bigwigs, going over every possible scenario. Missouri Moseley was no pushover and she wanted to make sure that they had contingency plans for every outcome. Normally Dean called Bobby a worrywart, but he had nothing on her. Dean supposed he understood, it was her ass on the line as well as his if something went awry.

Between the meetings and the nerves, Dean’s saving grace was Cas. Dean hadn’t been sure it was going to work out when they were first put together. They were so different, but over time he had come to appreciate how well Cas’ style complimented his own. Dean was more leap before looking, thinking with his heart instead of his head, and Cas was the opposite. Even though he was reckless sometimes, especially when it came to the pursuit of an offender, his cool appraisal of situations had saved Dean’s ass more than once.

Cas was the one who kept reminding him that he needed rest and food, and a change of scenery, Cas who urged him to try and read something other than the crime scene reports from time to time. Even if he could barely pay attention to the baseball game Cas had thrown on the break room TV, that shred of normalcy in the face of so much upheaval was what kept him from going insane.

No matter how he tried to prepare, Dean didn’t think he would ever be ready for this. He could go on a thousand raids and swat missions, but nothing would prepare him for a case this close to his heart. 

He imagined that Gabriel, who was currently in FBI custody, was feeling apprehensive for much different reasons. He’d been flown in on a red eye, in a straitjacket and leg shackles, with a personal escort of U.S. Marshals at his side. He’d been surprisingly quiet in the time Dean had been to visit him, and Dean didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Dean had gone over the plan with him at least a dozen times and all Gabriel had done was nod at him. No witty quips, or sassy observations, just quiet resignation. It was unnerving.

Dean tried not to let it bother him as he prepared both mentally and physically for what was to come. He was so absorbed in what he was doing, he barely heard the knock against the door frame.

He turned to see Cas looking at him, his head tilted to the side like it often was when he was looking for an answer.

“Hey Cas,” Dean waved him in, motioning for him to sit down on the ratty chair Dean kept for company, not that he ever had a lot. Cas sat down, looking awkward in the jeans and sweatshirt he was wearing.

“I just wanted to say goodbye before I left,” Cas told him, hands on his knees.

Dean nodded. Cas and another undercover agent were going before him and Gabriel to set up the rest of the sting. Cas would already be there and in his place when Dean showed up. “Who is going with you?”

“Christian Campbell,” Cas responded.

Dean’s lip curled involuntarily. He’d gone through the academy with Christian, and he wasn’t a fan. He was always trying to one up Dean, like he had something personal against him, but Dean never had any idea what he did to cause that kind of reaction other than merely existing. Dean didn’t know if he felt safe knowing he was the one who had Cas’ back, but he trusted Bobby’s judgement.

“I owe you a beer after this is over,” Dean’s lip quirked into a small smile.

“I think you owe me several,” Cas deadpanned, getting up from the chair. He turned when he reached the doorway, regarding Dean with inquisitive blue eyes over his shoulder. “Sam will be alright, Dean.”

Dean sighed. “I don’t know, Cas. Something just doesn’t feel right,” he replied. “How did they find him? I can’t even find him and then suddenly two psychos do?”

Cas bit his lip. “We can ask them after we catch them. I’m sure Bobby will want to know as much as you do. Until then, we just have to wait,” he responded. “I’ll see you in Florida.”

Dean waved as Cas walked out the door, turning back to the papers on his desk and his thoughts. How the Karma Killers caught Sam was going to bug him until they had them in custody. Dean had been trained to find people, and yet Sam eluded him, but two disorganized killers had managed to not only track him down, but capture him? Sometime wasn’t adding up, but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on what.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. He knew that the pressure and stress of this wasn’t exactly lending itself to his reasoning abilities, and that he’d always had a blind spot when it came to his brother. Maybe that was why he’d failed. Still he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut.

Dean busied himself with marking last minute things off his to-do list, willing the hours to go faster. Slowly the hours and minutes ticked down, until it was time to go.

The guards who had been minding Gabriel while in FBI custody, handed him over to Dean silently. He was wearing handcuffs, but no leg shackles, and Dean put him in the back of his car. His luggage went into the trunk for the drive from Quantico to Dulles International Airport. It was an almost 3-hour flight from there to St. Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport.

To Gabriel’s credit, he didn’t give Dean any trouble. He slept most of the flight, waking only to grab a coke and snack from the stewardess. There was a car waiting for them when they got there, FBI standard issue, it’s services donated by a local agent. Dean buckled Gabriel into the front seat, which was normally against protocol, but Bobby and Missouri wanted to be sure that the Karma Killers could see Gabriel from the moment they got there.

Gabriel had been a model prisoner since he’d arrived in Nashville, and both Bobby and Dean didn’t think he would ruin his chances by trying anything as close as he was to the finish line.

They arrived at the Mystery Spot about a half hour early, and Dean parked the car towards the back of the lot, taking a quick visual sweep of the surrounding area. He spotted their planted vehicle, a rusted old white Chevy Caprice with a flat back tire, sitting in one of the front spots, looking every inch the jalopy it was supposed to be. Dean knew it had been chosen because of the spacious trunk room. Cas would be lying in wait inside of it, armed to the teeth.

It didn’t make Dean feel any better.

The parking lot was dead, as was expected for any place at almost midnight. Other than him and their planted car, there was no one else in sight. Gabriel was staring out the window beside him, his golden eyes wide and glassy.

Dean realized it was the first time Gabriel had been outside prison walls since he was apprehended. He watched the outside world with all the intensity of a small child learning about it, and Dean watched him in much the same way. Aside from his unusual silence, Gabriel didn’t seem on edge or frightened. His body language was calm, relaxed even despite the presence of handcuffs.

Dean watched the seconds click down on his wristwatch, eyes flicking up every couple of minutes to check his surroundings. So far, there was no sign of their killers, and he was getting anxious with each passing moment. Already he was starting to feel the adrenaline in his system.

“Uh that light just went on,” Gabriel said, pointing to a window inside of the Mystery Spot. Dean looked over, and sure enough, a light that had not been on a second ago was on. What was more, he could see shadows against the blinds.

Dean got out of the car, opening the back door to grab a couple things. He tucked a knife into his sock, but other than that, he followed the Killers instructions to come unarmed. He rounded the back of the car, and opened Gabriel’s door.

“Let’s go,” Dean told him gruffly. “No funny business,” he added, helping the other man out of the car.

Gabriel eyed him. “Once again, I’m not stupid,” he retorted, waiting on Dean to lead the way. “I’ll behave.”

Dean took a deep breath and put his hand on Gabriel’s arm, pulling him lightly through the parking lot. When he reached the planted car, he gave the tire a kick, not enough for anyone inside to see, but just enough that Cas, inside the trunk, would feel it.

The Broward County Mystery Spot had been a kitschy tourist attraction in it’s heyday, much like the ones Dean had visited as a child with his father and brother. But nowadays, it was a moldering ruin, the black and green paint that dominated its color scheme warped and peeling.

Dean pulled open the front door, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to locate the killers. He could hear someone moving around, and low buzz of talking, even though he couldn’t make out the words. He moved towards the noise, Gabriel in tow, down a narrow hallway that smelled of mildew and into a larger, open room. Dean couldn’t believe his eyes.

Standing in the middle of the room, was Sam.

He looked thinner than Dean remembered him, sharper somehow, with bags under his eyes. His hair was longer than Dean had ever seen in, touching the tops of his shoulders.

“Where are they, Sammy?” Dean said in a rushed whisper, letting go of Gabriel’s arm. “C’mon we gotta get out of here.”

“There’s no one here, Dean,” Sam replied with a manic looking grin. His smile grew when he saw Gabriel.

“Did they leave?” he asked looking behind him. “Why would they leave?”

“There’s no one here,” Sam repeated. “Only us… well and Cas.”

Dean froze. How did he know about Cas?

“We told you not to bring anyone along,” Sam continued, still smiling, as he began to circle.

We?

Everything began to click into place in Dean’s head; the fingerprints, the blood on the letters, the nickname at the crime scene…

Dean could feel his heart beating in his throat, it had all been laid out in front of him the whole time, pointing to the right answer, and he had simple refused to see it.

Sam was a killer, and had been one all along. Gabriel hadn’t been the only one in the hotel room the night he’d been caught. If Dean remembered it correctly, Gabriel had been flushed, out of breath, and his clothing had been haphazardly thrown on, but there was no evidence of a sexual encounter on the victim’s body. Dean was just so sure that he never questioned the initial evidence.

“Sam,” he began, looking him in the eyes, searching for any sign that his brother was still in there. “Where is Cas?”

“We told you, Dean,” Sam said again, raising his hands. They were covered in blood. “You didn’t listen. We had to. I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Where is he?” Dean replied, looking around the room for any sign of his partner.

Sam opened his mouth, like he was going to answer, but then stopped. Suddenly he was holding his head, doubled over with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “NO!” he shrieked, talking to no one. “Leave me alone!”

Gabriel was at Sam’s side at once, handcuffed hands on his shoulder. “Sammy,” he cooed. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I won’t let him hurt you. Shhhhhh.”

Sam curled even harder into himself, his lips moving, but no sound was coming out. But as soon as he felt Gabriel’s touch, he came out, straightening up. He seemed more himself now, more in control of whatever was inside of his head.

Sam looked down at Gabriel and smiled. He ran a hand over his cheek, smearing blood across his cheekbone. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind.

“Where is Cas, Sam?” Dean pressed. The blood on Sam’s hands was still wet, which meant it was recent. If Cas was still alive, he could save him. “Please, I have to call an ambulance.”

“I can’t let you do that, Dean.” Sam turned to look at him, a large blood-stained bowie knife in his hand. Dean hadn’t even seen him pull it out, but Sam used it like an extension of his arm, like it belonged there. “Gabriel isn’t going back to prison. He’s coming with me.”

A small groan came from the corner of the room and Dean’s eyes darted. He stepped towards it, but Sam cut him off, knife pointed at his throat.

“You don’t have to do this,” Dean held up his hands so Sam could see he meant no harm. “I can get you help. Just let me see Cas and we can-”

“I don’t need your help,” Sam snarled, the knife in his hand remained on his brother. “This is your fault. You took Gabriel away from me.”

“This isn’t you, Sammy,” Dean tried again, his hands till up in the air. The Sam he knew wouldn’t let Cas die, but he wondered if there was enough of that Sam left to reason with. “Just let me see him. That’s all I’m asking. No ambulance, just let me see him.”

Sam turned to Gabriel, and he nodded. “Fine,” he relented finally, and Dean half-sprinted across the room.

Cas was lying on his back, a crimson stain spreading up his shirt. There was a pool of blood under him, too much blood. Dean knelt down quickly, unbuttoning Cas’ shirt to get a better look. Cas groaned and looked up at him.

“Don’t try and move, buddy,” Dean smiled weakly at him. “It’s alright. You’re gunna be okay,”

“He’s not gunna be okay, Dean,” Sam added, watching Dean with all the intensity of a predator. “I know where I cut him. If you don’t get him to the hospital soon, he’s going to die.”

Dean looked up at Gabriel and Sam, noting the way they looked at each other, the love that poured from one to the other with just a single glance. He thought back to what Dr. Leahy had said, about the murders being love letters written in blood. Sam hadn’t been blind to what Gabriel was, he had known what he was and embraced it.

This whole thing was a ruse they had concocted to free Gabriel. There had never been any other killer; Gabriel had been playing him the entire time, and what was worse, was that Dean had bought it hook, line, and sinker. Despite his better judgement, he had swallowed every word.

Dean gave Gabriel a hard look. “What did you do to him, you sick son of a bitch!? What did you do to my brother!?”

Gabriel chuckled darkly. “I didn’t do anything to him,” he retorted. “You can blame the FBI for that. I merely harnessed what was already there.”

Cas gave another feeble groan and Dean pressed down harder on his wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He turned to face Sam, the brother he had loved for so many years, and cringed. “So this whole time… that you’ve been gone, you’ve been with him… killing…”

“Tick tock, Dean,” Gabriel interrupted, grinning as he turned Dean’s taunting words from prison against him.  “Cas doesn’t have the time to waste on your questions, and neither do we.”

Dean’s stomach lurched. He knew Gabriel was right. Every second he wasted was a second he could be getting Cas the help that he needed, but he felt stuck just the same. Standing in front of him were the two killers he’d spent years chasing. Due to his own short-sightedness, he’d reunited them, and they would kill again without a doubt.

If Sam was anyone else, his code would have required him to take him out, to put him behind bars to face the justice that he deserved. But this was Sam. Sam, who had once lived and breathed the FBI. What could have gone so wrong as to turn him into the monster that stood before him? Had they abused Sam’s gift of thinking like a killer so badly that he became one?

Dean thought back to the last cases Sam had handled before he left: The Devil of Detroit and the Hand of God killer. Both had been some of the hardest investigations the FBI had ever taken on. Sam had killed Lucifer Shurley in self-defense and their best suspect for the Hand of God, Reverend Michael Milton, had been found brutally slain with a wooden cross jammed down his throat. Sam had disappeared right after, claiming he just needed a break. He never came back.

Had the FBI unknowingly planted the seed of evil inside of Sam, or had it simple given it the fertilizer it need to take hold? Was there anything that Dean could have done to stop it?

It didn’t seem matter now.

If he pursued the right course of action, his partner would be dead by the time an ambulance arrived. While Dean felt sick to his stomach at the thought of letting Gabriel and Sam go, he didn’t think he could live with himself if he let Cas die for his pride. The Karma Killers were his burden to bear, his punishment for not seeing what Sam had become, and he would not allow Cas to pay with his life.

“Leave,” Dean told them. “Get out of here, so I can call an ambulance. Please.”

“I told you it would work,” Gabriel looked at Sam, and then Dean. “No hard feelings, Dean-o. Thanks for the burgers.”

Dean gritted his teeth, anger and hatred burning in his gut like corrosive acid. “Go, before I change my mind.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sam responded, smiling at Dean and putting hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “That’s not who you are. Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean didn’t say a word, knowing the vitriol that would spill from his lips would only blow up in his face. Cas’ life depended on him being quiet, and he wouldn’t fail him again.

Sam sighed, and grasped Gabriel’s hand. Without another sound, they slipped out the back door and into freedom.

Dean waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps before he took out his phone.

“C’mon, buddy,” he put a hand to Cas’ cheek. His skin was an ashy grey now. “C’mon, you’re gunna be fine.” But Cas couldn’t respond any more than a feeble moan.

“Hello? I need an ambulance ASAP at the Broward County Mystery Spot,” Dean told the operator. “He has a deep abdominal laceration.”

He listened and responded, but everything around him was a blur. The only thing that mattered was Cas. All he could hear was Cas’ labored breathing and his own terrified voice

“Please. Please hurry.”

 

_ Please. _


	9. Epilogue

_ Dear Dean, _

_ I told myself I wouldn't write this letter, but you deserved an explanation for what happened. None of this was your fault. I think the thing inside me has been there a lot longer than I care to admit, maybe forever. Killing Lucifer Shurley was both the best and worst thing for me. If I hadn’t known Gabriel when it happened, I could have snapped and hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. I know you won’t see it that way, but Gabriel saved me. _

_ I’m happy to hear that Cas made a full recovery. I see now that there were other options, but at the time, it didn’t seem like it. I won’t make excuses for my actions, because I have none. _

_ Gabriel and I won’t be your problem much longer. By the time this letter reaches you, we’ll be long gone. We’re heading south, where there are plenty of people in need of what we do. _

_ This box contains everything you need should you want to prosecute us. I leave that choice up to you. _

_ Please don’t beat yourself up about it. _

 

_ Sam. _

Dean had come home from visiting Cas to find a nondescript brown box sitting on his porch. He grabbed a set of latex gloves from his car before peeking into the hand holes in the side. When Dean was satisfied it wasn’t going to explode, or harm him, he took it inside.

The letter was sitting on top of the other items, addressed to Dean in Sam’s distinct handwriting. Dean almost threw it directly into his fireplace, but something inside him couldn’t do it, at least not yet.

Maybe it was his curiosity that made him open it, part of him was still hoping that this was all some horrible misunderstanding and that Sam would give him an explanation for everything, but reading the letter only gave him more questions than answers.

What was underneath silenced them.

To anyone else, the book would have looked like it was full of a random assortment of junk, but Dean could place everything. There were trophies taken from Karma Killer crime scenes, pictures of the victims, and Dean realized with a punch to his gut, candy wrappers painted in green and brown, that would no doubt match the ones from one of the Candy Man crime scenes.

Bobby’s words rang out in his head as Dean looked over the wrappers,  “Like he’s tryin’ to impress someone.” he had said when they’d walked into the crime scene where Dick Roman had taken poisoned candy and died. Gabriel had been peacocking with that display, trying to attract a mate, and it had worked. He’d attracted Sam, and Sam had followed him into the very gates of Hell. 

There was no way back. 

The way Dean figured it, he had two options: he could bring this box directly to Bobby,or he could destroy it all, and let Gabriel and Sam get away with it. 

Everything in him was screaming to do that right thing, to do his job and go get the bad guys, but it was so much more than just that. If he brought the box to Bobby, to the team, with the evidence that not just Gabriel, but Sam as well, had been killing right under their noses, it would blow up in all of their faces. Every case anyone of them had ever touched would be ripped apart and scrutinized, convictions would be overturned and the monsters they’d tried so hard to put away would be back out on the streets. All the good they had done could be undone with one box of knick-knacks. 

Dean glanced uneasily at the fireplace across his living room, and weighed his options. Justice, the way he had been taught it, demanded that he hand the box over, whatever followed be damned. Gabriel and, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Sam deserved to pay for what they had done. A mere 3 years was nowhere near what a monster of Gabriel’s proficiency warranted, but was punishing him worth the scores of other scum it would set free? 

Dean tried not to think about Sam, the real Sam, the brother he had known. It hurt too much to think of the chubby toddler who took his first steps holding Dean’s fingers, or the gawky teenager that Dean had taught to drive. None of that mattered, that Sam was gone now, had been gone for some time, and Dean hadn’t even noticed. 

The real Sam was dead. 

Taking one last look inside the box, Dean knew what he had to do. 

He went to get wood for the fire. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Toastiel and all my friends who supported me while writing this. Thank you to my wonderful readers who asked for this story.


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